Initiate
by MarauderLover7
Summary: Nearly two and a half years had passed since Kreacher had woken up to find Harry Potter asleep on his kitchen floor, and Grimmauld Place had changed dramatically since then. Sequel to "Innocent".
1. Family And Friends

"With the Animagus thing, how will I know when I've got the right incantation?"

Sirius, who was dozing in an armchair in the library, snorted and pushed himself upright, trying to pretend he'd been awake the whole time. He yawned massively, and was rewarded by a snigger, and then an impatient shuffle of papers.

"You'll change," he muttered, and forced his eyes open. A bookcase was the only thing in his immediate line of sight, but warm, pinkish light was flooding in from the window; the sun was rising.

"That's not very helpful," Harry said from the floor, where he was curled up with his worn piece of parchment – Sirius thought he ought to rewrite the parts he was keeping – and several large books, including the storage book Dora'd bought him for Christmas.

"What?" Sirius asked, rubbing his face. Harry sniggered again, and Sirius got a whiff of ink, probably from the inkwell on the carpet with Harry, and also the strong, mouth-watering scent of bacon; breakfast obviously wasn't far away. "Ah, sorry. What've you got?"

Harry got up and came to perch on the arm of the chair for all of three seconds; then he slid down the side, until he was wedged between Sirius and the arm. Sirius moved over as much as he could, but Harry was still half sitting on him, so he just rearranged his arms into the most comfortable position he could, and looked over the parchment Harry had given him.

_My fur is as dark as the night but (something about the moon?). I __like __belong to my pack and we're __have the same moods__ happy and sad __at the same time __together. I am the wolf born of stag and doe._

Sirius hadn't seen it for quite some time, and was impressed with Harry's progress. He read it a few more times, gathering ideas – mainly he thought about the sort of things that had worked for himself, James and Peter when they created their incantations. The moon was something very appropriate to mention in an spell involving a wolf, and Sirius spent a moment wondering whether Harry'd come up with that on his own, or whether Remus had suggested it; he was leaning more toward the former.

"I don't know what to do about the moon part," Sirius said slowly, thinking. He tickled Harry's ear with the quill, and Harry squirmed and almost threw himself off the armchair in an attempt to get away. Sirius subsided, though, before he had to resort to such extreme measures. Harry eyed the quill warily but then resettled himself. "I like the pack part, but it could be reworded... maybe something about it being an adoptive family... I mean, we're family-" Of that, Sirius had no doubt, and he didn't think Harry did either. "-but we're only distantly related by blood, and you and Moony aren't really related at all-"

"My pack adopted me?" Harry suggested.

"We all sort of adopted each other," Sirius said, smiling to himself, as he became very aware of the dogtags hanging around his neck. "Maybe 'my pack is chosen and they are mine and I am theirs'?"

"My pack is chosen _carefully_," Harry amended, thoughtfully. "Otherwise – if he'd had his way - Mr Malfoy would be part of it, and so would every other 'well-meaning' person in Britain." He shuddered and Sirius sniggered, but forced himself to focus.

"And happy and sad works nicely," he said, "but there's got to be a better way to word that... something more canine."

He and Harry lapsed into concentrated silence; Sirius was thinking about Padfoot, and what he did when he was happy, and Harry was probably using him as a reference too, since Harry'd never seen Remus as Moony.

"Wagging tails," they said in unison, and then, "Oi!"

Harry jumped off the armchair and started to scribble that down, just as Remus wandered into the library – obviously breakfast wasn't ready yet - and burst out laughing.

"Moony," Harry said, waving in Remus' general direction, but his eyes never actually left his parchment.

"Harry," Remus said, in an odd tone; it was mild, like usual, but there was an amused sort of reprimand in his voice too. It was a tone Sirius had heard him use a lot, but only once or twice had he ever heard it directed at Harry. Sirius glanced at Harry; his thin shoulders were trembling with laughter, and he refused to look at either of them.

"What've you done?" Sirius asked, feeling a bit left out. Harry just looked at him and smiled a smile that got wider with each passing second. Remus sighed. "_Accio Sirius Black's mirror_," he said, flicking his wand. A moment later, Sirius' mirror shot into the room and Remus caught it and passed it over. Sirius glanced into it and chuckled; Harry – no doubt while Sirius had been dozing – had joined Sirius' eyebrows, given him a lightning bolt scar, cat whiskers and a very curly moustache.

Sirius set the mirror down and leaned back in his chair, contented.

"I look fantastic," Sirius said; both Harry and Remus seemed surprised he'd left it on.

"I thought it was an improvement," Remus said, smirking.

"Why not take it off?" Harry asked.

"I could..." Sirius said, "but I'd much rather show Kreacher what you did to his poor, tired Mast-"

"_Saponum!_" Harry said, looking panicked. Sirius ducked, and a jet of soapy bubbles shot over his head and splattered on the wall behind him. "Sit, Padfoot!"

"Assaulting an Auror is a legal offense," Sirius cackled, ducking another cleaning spell. "And again!" He clicked his tongue. "What would your mother say-"

"Probably a spell to help her son," Remus said helpfully; he was staying well out of the way. Harry tried a water spell next, and it would have hit Sirius square in the face if he hadn't tripped on a stack of books; it got the back of his head instead.

"Kreacher!" Sirius shouted, running to the door. "Kreacher, look what Harry did to me!"

"Ignore him!" Harry bellowed, chasing after Sirius. "Kreacher, stay where you are!" Sirius could only imagine the dilemma Kreacher was under in the kitchen, arguing with himself over whether to stay or come. "_Pedis Offensio,_" Harry said, and Sirius was relieved that he'd waited until the pair of them reached the landing; it could have been dangerous at the top of the stairs.

Sirius went over with a yelp, and Harry promptly sat on him and started to clean his face with water spells. Sirius spluttered and changed into Padfoot – Harry should have anticipated that, but didn't – and so Padfoot was able to throw him off – gently – and get a grip on the hood of his school jumper.

Harry, of course, tried to wriggle out, and had managed to extract one arm, and lose his head in the folds of the blue wool, when Kreacher appeared at the bottom of the stairs with his hands on his skinny hips. Padfoot still immediately, and attempted to smile at Kreacher – it must have looked silly, given that he was a dog, and had a mouthful of wool. Harry stopped struggling too, though Sirius wasn't sure if he'd given up, or sensed Kreacher's presence.

Kreacher eyed Padfoot, who was dripping inky water all over the carpet, and Harry, who was dangling from Padfoot's mouth by his jumper, and peeking out through the neckhole, glasses askew.

Kreacher's eyes narrowed and Padfoot opened his mouth. Harry dropped to the floor with a grunt, and his head popped out of his jumper. Padfoot wagged his tail and gave Harry an enormous lick on the side of the face – which was met by a playfully disgusted sound and a tug on his ear – and then changed back into himself.

Both he and Harry watched Kreacher, probably looking rather guilty. Kreacher just sighed, as if he hadn't really expected anything else – Sirius supposed he probably shouldn't have, because he'd been living with the pair of them for over two years now.

"Breakfast is ready," he said. After that, it was the usual morning rush; Remus helped Harry with a bit of last minute preparation for a spelling test he had that day at school – Sirius wondered briefly if Harry should have been working on that instead of his Animagus incantation and then decided that being able to turn into a wolf would probably help him more in the long term than knowing how to spell 'scintillating' – and Sirius Summoned his mirror and scrubbed the rest of the ink off his face over the kitchen sink – as much as it amused him, he didn't think it'd be well received at work - and Kreacher got underfoot, trying to get them all to eat.

Dora Flooed in, looking tired – she'd had an overnight training session – and she accepted a egg and bacon roll from Kreacher which she devoured in the time it took Harry to run upstairs and fetch his rucksack, and then Apparate back upstairs to find shoes. Ted and Andy would both be at work, and Dora couldn't cook to save her life, so she was a regular at Grimmauld or Remus' in the mornings if she wanted anything other than toast or cereal for breakfast.

"Ready," Harry said, hopping on the spot to try to get his trainers on; he hadn't bothered to untie the laces. While he was still – or sort of still – Sirius tapped him on the head to change his appearance slightly. While they weren't on the run anymore, Sirius wasn't entirely sure what muggles knew about Harry Potter, other than that he'd been kidnapped two and a bit years ago. Harry's hair lightened to a sandy brown, sat a bit flatter, and his eyes lightened to blue. Sirius repeated the same charms on himself.

"Got everything?" Sirius asked. Harry nodded, hoisting his bag over his shoulder, and headed for the stairs. "Coming?" he asked Dora; Ted and Andy's house wasn't only a few streets past Harry's school.

"I think I might Apparate," she said through a yawn. "Straight into bed, I might add." She yawned again, kissed Remus and then and stumbled after Harry, her hair a sleepy blue. "Thanks for breakfast, Kreacher." Kreacher bowed and continued to clear the table.

"Good luck," Sirius told Remus, who grinned, wiped his palms on his robes and headed over to the fireplace.

He vanished into the fire with a nervous, "Hogwarts!" Sirius started upstairs after the other two, and then shook his head.

"Wand, Harry," he said; the item in question was protruding from the pocket of Harry's school shorts.

"Oops," Harry said, spinning around. "Sorry." He squeezed past Dora and then Sirius, dropped his wand on the kitchen table. His lunchbox, which he'd forgotten, was pressed into his hands by Kreacher. "Thanks! Bye, Kreacher," he called, letting Sirius usher him upstairs, down the hallway, and out the door. Sirius took a moment longer, to retrieve his bike from the indoor shed he and Harry had replaced his father's old office with, back in early January, and wheeled it out into the warm, June sun.

Dora yawned and bid them both goodbye before she promptly vanished, and Sirius carefully manoeuvred his bike down the front steps to where Harry was waiting impatiently, spelling out words under his breath.

* * *

It was a nice morning for a walk, Remus thought, as he walked along the road between Hogsmeade and the school. The sun was already out, but not too hot yet, and everything was very green. Hagrid was waiting for him at the gates; Dumbledore had probably sent him.

"Mornin'," he said, beaming at Remus through his thick beard, as he unlocked the gates.

"Good morning, Hagrid," Remus said, with a smile. "I hope I didn't disrupt your breakfast-"

"Ate early," Hagrid said, waving a large hand. He stepped back to let Remus inside, and then patted him on the shoulder. Remus braced himself, but still staggered a bit under the force. "Got things ter do today, what with Fluffy moving to a new home an' all."

Remus smiled politely; he wasn't entirely sure who or what Fluffy was, but was certain that Fluffy probably wasn't as friendly and gentle as the name suggested, and was even more certain that, despite his interest in magical creatures, that he probably didn't want to meet this one. Hagrid pulled a pocket watch the size of a normal wall clock out of his coat, and baulked.

"I'd best get going... Good luck!"

"Thanks, Hagrid," Remus said, and wished for the millionth time that everyone would stop wishing him luck; he appreciated the sentiment, but it was making him very nervous. Hagrid headed off toward the forest, whistling for Fang as he went; Fang, who'd been sitting on the front steps of Hagrid's hut, trotted over and fell into step beside him.

Remus continued up to the castle. Most of the school was still at breakfast; he could see them through the large windows that looked out into the grounds, though he suspected quite a few of the seventh years were still in their common rooms, or in the library, cramming for their N.E.W.T.s. A few students were out and about; a group of small children – probably first or second years – were throwing rocks at the Whomping Willow, two older students were sitting _very_ close together, over by the lake, and another pair – younger students, again, were watching the Whomping Willow from a safe distance.

"Reckon they'll find the knot?" a voice asked. It was nigglingly familiar, and Remus slowed to get a closer look at the speaker. She was sitting, so it was hard to guess her height, with very blond hair, and a very straight posture. She was eating a piece of bacon and talking to a younger, skinnier male companion, with brown hair. Both were wearing Hufflepuff robes.

Remus actually recognised the boy first; it was Silverear, from the werewolf camp. The girl had noticed him looking, and the scowl she wore triggered his memory, and given that Silverear was beside her, Remus knew it could only be Greentooth. He'd known they were starting Hogwarts – Dumbledore had actually consulted him on the matter – but he hadn't really thought about it since.

"Lupin," she said flatly. Her voice, which had been lighter and gentler when she was speaking to Silverear, had reclaimed its usual growling edge. Remus also couldn't get over how clean she looked; at the camps, her hair had been matted, and brown from dirt, she'd had long, ragged fingernails and torn clothes. Here, she had freshly laundered robes, and had washed, brushed hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. She was almost unrecognisable. Silverear's hair was a few shades lighter, but that was the only difference; he'd always managed to maintain a reasonable standard of hygiene. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"I've come to see the Headmaster," he said, approaching slowly. "And you two... almost at the end of first year, I suppose?" Silverear glanced at Greentooth, who'd folded her arms and put her nose in the air. Silverear nodded. "Enjoying it?" Silverear nodded again, instantly, and Remus couldn't help but smile.

"I suppose," Greentooth said after a pause. "Obviously learning from Father and the others would have been preferable-" Her eyes went dull for a brief moment, and then sparked with anger. "-but after last year that wasn't an option." She sniffed, and Silverear looked grim, but not sad.

_Interesting, _Remus thought, watching the pair of them. "Well," he said aloud, "I'll leave you to it. Good luck with exams."

"Thanks," Silverear said quietly. Greentooth silenced him with a look, and then turned one of her most threatening glowers on Remus, who turned away from them and continued on toward the castle.

Remus wasn't sure whether Dumbledore'd spotted him through the window in the Great Hall, or if he'd just known in that uncanny way of his, but he was waiting in the Entrance Hall, when Remus walked through the front doors. They walked companionably up to Dumbledore's office, exchanging pleasantries – Dumbledore asked about Sirius and Harry, and about the last full moon, and Remus in turn, asked about the school and about Greentooth and Silverear, though Dumbledore knew them both as Sarah and Ethan.

"Now, may I hope that your presence here today indicates a positive response to the proposal I made in my letter?" Dumbledore asked once they were settled in his office.

"Third time's the charm," Remus replied, amused. Dumbledore beamed. "If you're willing to have me, of course."

"Of course," Dumbledore said warmly. "Arrangements can easily be made for when you're ill – Sarah and Ethan are currently occupying the Shrieking Shack, so you could always join-"

"No, thank you," Remus said. "I'll either leave the grounds altogether, or I'll take the Wolfsbane potion and spend the night in my office." Dumbledore inclined his head.

"I'll leave you to choose the method that best suits you," he said. "We will be able to facilitate either, I'm sure. All I ask is that you keep me informed, should that method change at any time. People – parents and students both – may be uneasy, given your admission at Sirius' trial, but I should be able to placate them, as long as I know exactly where you'll be." Dumbledore sighed. "I apologise for the intrusion, because I know you've never truly been comfortable talking about your condition-"

"Don't apologise," Remus said. "It's not an unreasonable request, by any means."

"Thank you."

"I've got to ask, though, sir: why me? Why sign up for all this trouble when you could just have Bean or Rattler, or just keep Davey in the positi-?"

"Neither Sturgis or Thomas were willing to step down from their jobs for a year," Dumbledore said. "My other candidate was Quirinus, but when I spoke with him this morning, he seemed distracted. He said he had some sort of research project on the go, and that he'd be occupied with that for quite some time." Dumbledore smiled in a fond sort of way. "He said that teaching was important, but that he had to prioritise. And Davey's eyesight is deteriorating; while he can still teach theory, he's struggling to write notes, and struggling with his aim and coordination in practical demonstrations."

"And that leaves me," Remus said wryly.

"You are hardly a last resort, Remus," Dumbledore said patiently. "As you said earlier, this is not the first time I've approached you."

"No," Remus agreed.

"So you'll take the job?" Dumbledore asked. Remus hesitated, and oddly, found himself thinking of James.

_The risk's what makes it fun, _he thought, mustering a smile. "Sure," he said. "Where do I sign?"

* * *

"Oh, this is so exciting!" Dora said, bouncing along beside Remus; she was wearing the Balance Boots she'd been given for Christmas, otherwise Remus didn't think she'd dare bounce, for fear of falling over. She and Remus dodged a pair of trainees and Auror Dawlish and continued through the corridor. "Have you told Sirius yet?"

"I haven't seen him. Or Harry," he added with a grin, forestalling her next question. He caught her hand, and she gave his a squeeze and smiled up at him. "I thought we could stop by Sirius' cubicle, though, and see if he wanted to join us for lunch."

"No," Dora said. Remus glanced at her, surprised.

"Why not?" he asked.

"He's not here."

"He said he'd be in all day, though," Remus said, frowning. "Did something come up? Is Harry-"

"He went to get coffee with McKinnon, about half an hour ago," Dora said, shrugging. Remus arched an eyebrow.

"Did he now?" he asked, smirking. "What prompted that?" Dora shrugged again.

"They do it all the time," she said, not seeming fazed. Remus stopped walking, and Dora glanced back at him, her hair a puzzled sort of orange.

"He's never said anything to me about that," he said.

Now it was Dora's turn to smirk: "Well he wouldn't, would he?"

"He always liked to brag about dates, though," Remus said, frowning.

"I don't think it's a date," Dora said, rolling her eyes, but she didn't smell convinced. Remus just gave her a look. "I think they're just friends."

"They've always been 'just friends'," Remus said, amused. He kissed Dora's temple, and she smiled up at him. "Even when they were practically living together, and we all thought Sirius was going to propose, they weren't dating." She laughed, and then looked thoughtful. Remus stepped forward – but kept hold of her hand – while he pressed the button for the lift. "Any preference for lunch?"

"No," she said. "I just need to be back by one, or Mad-Eye'll... er..."

"Be unimpressed?"

"I was going to say hex me, or feed me to his rubbish bins, but unimpressed works too," she said, grinning.

* * *

"Blaise," Mrs Phelps said, "you're needed at the front office. Everyone else, off to lunch."

Harry tried to catch Blaise's eye, but Blaise wasn't looking his way; he looked puzzled, and was frowning at his feet. Harry glanced at Hermione, instead; she shrugged and pulled an apple out of her schoolbag. Harry grabbed his own lunch – two slices of freshly baked bread (it was still warm, and he grinned and reminded himself to thank Kreacher) – a small, mixed selection of fruit, and a slice of treacle tart.

"Hats on," Mrs Phelps called after them. "If the teacher on duty sees you without it, you'll be sent inside!"

Harry jammed his hat onto his head, and Hermione did the same. Blaise hadn't even taken his. The pair of them made their way out of the classroom with the rest of the students, and out into the sunny schoolyard. Harry's eyes followed Blaise; Blaise was too well behaved to be in trouble, and his father – Mr Benson – would venture out of the principal's office to talk to him, rather than call him in.

"What do you reckon's going on?" Harry asked Hermione.

"I don't know," Hermione said, not seeming bothered by the whole thing. "Mr Benson probably just wants to talk to him." She pulled a juicebox out of the pocket of her shorts – orange, just like always. She unwrapped the straw. "How'd you go in the spelling test? Did you get number seven?" Harry'd known her too long to be surprised when class work came up, but he still had to swallow a groan. He looked around for any other topic of conversation, and his eyes fell on Blaise again.

"Who's that?" he asked; Blaise and Mr Benson were standing outside the front office, but they weren't alone; a tall woman stood near them, dressed in a dark shirt and blouse, tall heels, and Harry could see her red lipstick from across the playground. She had Blaise's dark skin and hair.

"I don't know," Hermione said, sipping at her orange juice. She seemed completely unconcerned.

"Look at Blaise!" Blaise was watching the woman from behind his father, and his hand was curled around Mr Benson's arm. He seemed scared, or wary, something Harry never would have expected from his confident, charismatic friend.

"Odd," Hermione agreed, sounding a bit more curious now. She eyed Harry. "You _can't_ be thinking of going over there?!"

"No," Harry said, and then relented. "Why not?"

"Because that's called spying!" Hermione said, looking scandalised. "Blaise is our friend, and-"

"And what if he needs us?" Harry said.

"Mr Benson will look after him," Hermione said, with confidence. Harry couldn't doubt that; Mr Benson was about as committed to Blaise as Padfoot was to Harry.

"It's not spying," Harry said. "It's just keeping an eye on-" He could tell from Hermione's face that she wasn't convinced, so he dropped that line of argument, and tried another one: "You're not even a bit curious?"

"No," Hermione said, after a moment's hesitation.

"Liar," Harry said, grinning. He tucked what was left of his lunch into his pocket, and hopped off of the bench.

"I'm not- Harry! You'll lose house points if you're caught!" Hermione sprang to her feet and hurried after him, hissing reprimands. Blaise, Mr Benson and the woman were heading inside, probably to Mr Benson's office.

"House points?" Harry asked. "What do you care? You're not in my house."

"You'll get in trouble!" she said, tugging on his shirt.

"Only if you're not quiet," he whispered.

"I'll get in trouble!" she moaned. "I've never had a time out, and I don't want one just before school finis-"

"I'm not forcing you to come," Harry pointed out. He crept around the outside of the administration building – technically, they were out of bounds, so he kept an eye out for teachers – and was a little surprised to hear Hermione's overly slow, quiet footsteps behind him.

* * *

"So was it Gina?" Blaise asked.

"Giovanna," Giovanna replied. She sat down in Emmanuel's chair. He seemed a little annoyed by that, but he was a muggle – even if he was the father of her son – and she was a witch, and she'd like to see him try to stop her. He remained standing, his hand on Blaise's shoulder. He'd always been very mild-mannered. A nice man – other than the fact that he was a muggle – and not her usual type; he wasn't exceedingly handsome, or exceedingly wealthy. Or wealthy at all; she eyed his suit and was sure the entire thing cost less than her lipstick.

That was probably what had saved his life... that, and when Blaise came along, she needed somewhere to leave the boy because she certainly hadn't wanted to deal with dirty nappies, and baby food, and crying, and toilet training... but who better to leave her child with, than a teacher? Teachers liked children.

Giovanna looked at her son. There was no doubt he was hers; he looked very much like her older brother had at the same age.

"Giovanna," Blaise said, tasting the name.

"Giovanna Zabini," Giovanna said; she'd never had much patience for children, and their need to repeat everything. "Your mother."

"Yeah," he said. "You mentioned that." He glanced at his father and then back at her. "So what do you want?"

"To give you this," she said, pulling a heavy parchment envelope from her pocket. She'd had it since April, when he turned eleven – it would have been sent out that day – probably with Minerva McGonagall - except she'd had a word with Dumbledore and he'd given it to her so that she could take it to her son. She'd been rather busy since then, with work, but she'd finally managed to find time to visit.

She passed the letter to Blaise, who glanced at Emmanuel again. Giovanna rolled her eyes; the boy wouldn't last five minutes in any house but Hufflepuff if he was so hinged on reassurance. Giovanna wondered if she should have come earlier.

"Open it," she sighed. For a moment, she thought he might refuse – he certainly would have if Emmanuel hadn't been there, nodding warily – but then he broke the wax and opened the letter. His dark eyes flicked back and forward as he read the letter, and his face paled a bit.

"Blaise?" Emmanuel asked. Blaise handed him the letter, and while he was reading, Blaise looked at Giovanna. There was something in his eyes that reminded her of herself, and for the first time today, she thought the boy might actually amount to something.

"Is this a joke?" he asked.

_Or perhaps not, _she thought, sighing. _He's just as dense as every other muggle I've ever met. _ "No," she said. "It's quite real."

"Magic?" he asked. "I think I'd know if I had magic." There was a squeak from over near the open window, and Giovanna frowned, pulled out her wand, and closed it. She added a Silencing charm for good measure. Blaise and Emmanuel both stared.

"Haven't you ever been scared or excited and made something strange happen?" she asked impatiently.

"Er... no," Blaise said, rolling his eyes. Giovanna felt as if she'd been hit.

"Never?" she asked, staring between her son and his father.

"Never?" Blaise said. Emmanuel nodded.

"But-" She shook her head. Her son could _not_ be a Squib. "But he's on the list! He has a letter. He has to be magical!"

"Well, I'm not," Blaise said. "Like I said, I think I'd know."

"Did he ever do anything strange as a child? Summon toys, turn on lights?" Emmanuel shook his head, and frowned down at the letter. Giovanna pulled out her wand again, and the other two flinched. "Take it," she said.

"I don't want to," Blaise said.

"Now, Blaise!" she snapped.

"No," he said. "You can't just show up here after eleven years and tell me what to do."

"All right," she said coolly. She flicked her wand, securing Blaise to his chair. Emmanuel stepped forward, but Giovanna was already on her feet, wand pressed to his throat. Emmanuel swallowed nervously. "Take it now, or Daddy gets hurt."

"You're insane!" Blaise said, and then started to shout at the office door: "Mrs Felser! Mrs Felser, call the-" Giovanna Silenced him. Blaise's eyes were enormous, and his mouth was moving rapidly, but no sound was escaping. Emmanuel tried to step away, but Giovanna just prodded him with her wand.

"Three," Giovanna said, "two, o-" Her wand flew out of her hand and landed by the office door. She smiled at her son, who looked scared. "See," she said. "Magic." Emmanuel was quite still, so she collected her wand and released Blaise. "Now," she said, "that we've established that, certain steps need to be taken. Firstly, Blaise is coming with me, until Hogwarts starts in September."

"Now wait just one-" Emmanuel began.

"But I still have school-"

"Muggle school," Giovanna said dismissively. "Hogwarts, and preparing for Hogwarts, is more important. No son of mine is going to show up behaving like a mudblood in front of the likes of the Malfoys, Greengrasses or Parkinsons."

"I'm not your son," Blaise muttered.

"Your blood says differently," Giovanna told him dismissively.

"You can't just show up and take my son-"

"I showed up and _left_ him eleven years ago, and you didn't complain," Giovanna said. She checked her watch. "You'll see him at Christmas, don't worry."

"No," Blaise said. "No, I'm staying with Dad-"

"Good bye, Emmanuel," Giovanna said, taking hold of Blaise's arm. He tried to shrug her off, but he wasn't quick enough; she pulled them both into Apparition.


	2. New Names

"Magic?" Blaise's voice drifted through the open window. "I think I'd know if I had magic."

Next to Harry, Hermione squeaked, and above them, the window snapped shut. Harry grabbed Hermione's arm and hauled her away before anyone came to find the source of the noise. They didn't stop running until they'd reached the library, and found their usual corner at the back, in the quiet reading section.

Hermione was very pale, and looked a little panicked. Harry couldn't believe she hadn't spoken up already, with a thousand reasons that Giovanna Zabini was completely mad and couldn't possibly be right.

_She didn't believe it, did she?_ Harry wasn't sure what he was supposed to do if that was the case. Talking to Padfoot was the obvious solution, but then what? Obliviate Hermione? Tell her everything and make her swear never to say anything to anyone?

And Blaise... Blaise was a wizard. He hadn't sounded convinced, but then, Harry himself hadn't believed it when Padfoot first told him. That meant Blaise would be at Hogwarts. Harry would know another person... and Blaise would know someone too. September was suddenly looking even better.

"Mad, right?" Harry heard himself say.

"Mad," Hermione agreed with a shaky laugh. "Silly, really, that a grown woman could think magic was real." She still didn't quite sound like herself. Harry forced a smile. "And she thinks, what, that Blaise could be some sort of witch?"

"Wizard, probably," Harry said, with a nervous smile. Hermione gave him an odd look. "Cause, you know, Blaise is a bloke, so he'd be a wizard, not a-"

_Stop talking!_ he told himself. He clamped his mouth shut.

"Not a witch," Hermione finished. "Right, silly of me." She shook her head hard enough that her hat nearly fell off. "All hypothetical, of course."

"Yeah," Harry said quickly. "I mean, magic's not _real_."

"No, definitely not," Hermione said. They lapsed into silence. Harry glanced around the library, and when he was convinced they were alone, pulled his treacle tart out of his pocket and took a bite. Hermione pursed her lips, and her eyes flicked to the "No eating" sign on the wall, but she didn't comment. She still looked nervous. "And she didn't even look like a witch."

"No warts," Harry agreed, rubbing mud off his shorts.

"No toad," Hermione said nervously.

"Nope," Harry said. "Very muggle-ish." She'd actually done well, he thought. Zabini'd carried herself like a pureblood – haughtily – so he doubted she spent much time in the muggle world, but she'd certainly looked the part.

"Pardon?" Hermione asked, eyes huge. Harry realised his mistake too late.

"I-" he said. _Idiot! How the bloody hell am I supposed to explain _that?_ Hermione's a walking dictionary, and she won't have heard the word, so she'll start asking questions... _

"Muggle," Hermione said. "You said muggle."

"No, Harry told her as firmly as possible, "I didn't, I said-"

"You did too; I heard you," Hermione said bossily. She was smiling – still rather nervously, but there was hope there too – and it was very, very, worrying.

"I didn't," Harry insisted. Hermione stared at him for a long moment, apparently thinking something through. She crossed her fingers. _Oh, Merlin, what have I-_

"What House do you think Zabini was in?" Hermione asked, her eyes fixed on Harry's face.

"I didn't- _what?_" Harry stared at Hermione, certain his ears were playing tricks on him. She watched him, her expression almost impossible to read. Harry wished he could transform; then he'd be able to smell her mood. He took a deep breath, hoping that this wasn't going to backfire on him. _If it does, they can always Obliviate her, _he thought miserably. "Holly," he said carefully. "And phoenix feather."

"Vine," she whispered, "and dragon heartstring." Harry gaped at her, and she stared back, obviously stunned.

"You're a witch?" he asked, dumbfounded.

"You're a wizard," she countered, and it wasn't a question. "Hogwarts?" she asked shrewdly.

"Hogwarts," Harry agreed. Hermione beamed. "How- how long?" Harry stammered. Hermione shifted her chair closer to his, and lowered her voice.

"Well, all my life, I imagine," she said. Harry would have rolled his eyes if he wasn't so shocked. "But I only found out last year, on my birthday. Professor McGonagall, she teaches-"

"Transfiguration," Harry supplied. "Yeah, I know."

"Did she come to meet you too?" Hermione asked. Harry shook his head. Hermione frowned at him, and then pushed on with her story. "Well, anyway, she came over with a letter – like the one Blaise got - and I didn't believe her at first, but then a lot of things she told me made sense, and then she turned our couch into a goat, and well, how could I _not _believe her after _that?_" Hermione paused for breath. "It's all so interesting! That there's a whole other world hidden right under everyone's noses, and now I can be a part of it! Mum and Dad had a bit more trouble accepting it than I did; they had all sort of plans for me for high school, but really, they just want me to be happy, and-"

"Hermione," Harry said, "breathe."

"Sorry!" she said breathlessly. "I just- it's so nice to be able to tell someone. Mum and Dad are interested enough, I suppose, but they're not home much..." She gave him an expectant look, and then sighed impatiently.

"What?" Harry asked.

"How did you find out?" she asked, looking like she might explode.

"Oh," Harry said, blinking. "Er, well, my family was magical-"

"So you've always known?" Hermione asked, eyes bright with the prospect of new knowledge.

"Er... no," Harry said. "We- Padfoot told me, when I was eight."

"Is that normal?" Hermione asked. "Are you not allowed to know before then? Did your parents just not use magic? And Padfoot's an odd name; are they a wizard, or-"

"Hermione," Harry said again.

"Sorry," she said, falling silent at once, but she remained attentive. Harry pushed his glasses up, thinking about what to say; was it a good idea to admit everything, and tell her his real name? He couldn't see why not – Draco knew, and so did Ron and Ginny – and they weren't in hiding anymore... it just seemed wrong, when Harry'd worked so hard to keep his real name, face and magic hidden at school. He sighed.

"I think," he said, "that you probably know more about me than you think." She read a lot, and knowing Hermione, she'd have tried to find as much out about the current situation in the wizarding world as possible, so she had an idea about what she'd be walking into, come September. He held his hand out. "I'm Harry," he said. Hermione rolled her eyes, but took his hand. "Harry Potter." Her mouth fell open.

"That's not- but you _can't- _This is a joke, right?"

"I'm serious," Harry said, apologetically, and then grimaced. "Well, actually, _I'm_ not, but my godfather is; Sirius Black." Hermione looked like she might faint.

"You're sure?" she asked. Harry just stared at her. "Not that I- You're dead in the muggle world, did you know? They stopped looking, and everyone assumed..." She shook her head. "Of course, anyone that knows even the slightest about what's going on in the magical world knows _that's _not true, but when you're in both worlds like we- Are you _really?_" Not sure how to respond to that, Harry just shrugged in a helpless sort of way. "D-"

But whatever Hermione had been about to say was lost in the sound of the bell that signalled the end of lunch, and, for the second time ever in Harry's year at school, _he_ was the one that leaped out of his chair and led the way back to the classroom. Hermione assumed Harry's normal role and shuffled along behind, looking disappointed that lunch was over.

* * *

"One word, Blaise, and I-"

The boy – Blaise – wrenched his arm out of Giovanna's manicured grip. Narcissa, who'd opened her mouth to greet the pair, closed it again. She'd never seen the boy – who was probably somewhere between Hydrus and Draco in age - before, but with his skin, dark eyes and height, he could only be Giovanna's son. She remembered Giovanna had mentioned a son, once, a while ago, but she'd never met the boy, and hadn't even realised Giovanna was in contact with him; she'd said he lived with his father. Blaise glanced over his shoulder, glowered at Giovanna and then stepped forward.

"Blaise Zabini," he said, hesitating for the briefest moments between his names, as if he'd wanted to say something else. A charming smile spread over his face, but his shoulders were still rather stiff. "You must be Mrs Malfoy."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Narcissa said, smiling at him. She extended a hand and he shook it without hesitation. "Giovanna," she added, looking over the boy's shoulder.

"Narcissa," Giovanna said coolly. She stepped past the pair of them and into the Manor without another word. Narcissa pursed her lips, and then glanced down at Blaise, who was eyeing her expression of disapproval and, oddly enough, seemed comforted by it.

"I don't like her much either," he said, and then, like his mother, walked right past her. She wasn't sure whether he'd seen his mother and followed her, or just followed the noise the others were making, but he didn't need any help finding his way to the drawing room. Narcissa followed him, curious; she didn't think she – an adult - could walk with as much confidence into a stranger's house as he did, and she was torn between being annoyed and impressed that he didn't seem to appreciate the manor's expensive interior.

Giovanna had already made herself at home in the drawing room; Roderick Crabbe, Aloysius Goyle, Nishith Shafiq, Ernest Parkinson and Leopold Nott were all gathered around her, laughing, and Lucius and Marius Greengrass were a bit further away but still watching her closely.

Edith Crabbe, Clementina Goyle, and Nola Shafiq were huddled together, all looking rather displeased, but Eleanor Nott didn't seem to mind, or even have noticed. She and Catherine – her five year old daughter – were reading a book on one of the couches, and Parmenia Greengrass was talking to Magnus and Theodosia Bulstrode.

Blaise hesitated in the doorway, looking around at – Narcissa supposed – all the people – and then squared his shoulders and strode toward the children – who were, as usual, gathered by the fireplace - as if he'd known them his entire life. She wondered absently, whether he was brave like a Gryffindor, in his own little world, like a Ravenclaw, trusting like a Hufflepuff, or bluffing like a Slytherin... one action, with so many possible motives. She shook her head and smoothed her robes. No one paid Blaise much mind at all as he crossed the room, and Narcissa wanted to be surprised but couldn't quite manage it; it was Draco's birthday they'd all gathered to celebrate, yet no one appeared to have noticed that Draco wasn't even there.

* * *

"...a blue feather, a rock, a bookmark, an apple, a dragon's claw, a piece of string, and a piece of parchment-"

"Which said what?" Severus asked, from behind his desk. Between them, rested a large tray covered in a cloth Severus had conjured.

"It was a recipe for a potion?" Draco said, squinting as he tried to remember. Severus waited. "The Wolfsbane Potion?"

"Are you guessing, or telling?"

"Telling," Draco decided.

"And the last object?"

"Godric Gryffindor's chocolate frog card," Draco said. Severus watched him impassively, and then inclined his head. It wasn't praise, but it was the closest thing to it that Severus usually gave.

"Fetch me _Advanced Potions Making,_" he said, "and then we're done for the day."

Draco turned to the bookshelf he'd rearranged that morning, trying to remember what system he'd used; last week, he'd sorted it by author, the week before that it had been by subject, and the week before that it had been by date of publication. All had their advantages, of course; it was easiest to find a book when the entire bookshelf was stored in alphabetical order, but alphabetical didn't work quite as well if it was potions ingredients, or potions that he was sorting; it was better to sort them by species.

At the moment, the bookshelf was sorted by author's surname, and Draco paused – _Borage? _he thought tentatively – and then stepped toward that part of the room. Sure enough, it was there. Severus nodded again.

"That's it?" Draco asked, disappointed. When he'd started visiting Severus regularly – until he was about nine, he'd hadn't seen much of his godfather – he'd hated it. He'd hated the odd, pointless tasks – like organising shelves, and playing memory games, and learning to lie, and reading expressions, and reading strange bits of wizarding literature – and Severus' frustrating questions that had no real answer, but made him think and shook his faith in lifelong assumptions.

Now, he liked the visits, and if Severus' teaching schedule allowed, Draco would probably spend more time there than at home. He liked Severus' company, abrupt and sarcastic as it was, and he didn't mind the tasks. He still didn't see the point, but he didn't really mind. And if he'd changed his mind about a few things, so be it... even if they had made him an oddity amongst his family and the purebloods in his social circle.

Draco absently scratched the scar on his palm, which Severus had given him when he showed him that purebloods - like Draco - and halfbloods - like Severus - had the same blood. Then he looked up, and was surprised to see Severus pulling a package out from one of his desk drawers.

It was wrapped in the same brown paper than apothecaries used to wrap things like unicorn horns, and roots... things that weren't going to drip everywhere, but still needed covering.

"Happy birthday, Draco," Severus said. Draco didn't bother to hide how touched he was that Severus had bought him a birthday present; it wasn't a very Slytherin thing to do, but Draco didn't have to be cool and dismissive – or even try to be, because he wasn't as good at that as he'd used to be - with Severus, which was another thing he liked about his godfather's company.

Severus didn't pass him the parcel, though; it was a thick, parchment letter that was pressed into Draco's hands, one with emerald green ink on the front of it, and a very distinctive seal... the seal of the school he was sitting in currently, in fact.

"They usually owl them," Draco said, suspiciously, eyeing his godfather.

"They do," Severus said curtly, and offered no more explanation; instead, he passed Draco the package.

"A book?" he asked wryly, unwrapping it. One part of his head instantly went to where he'd sort it and came up with several possibilities, while the other focused on the title. "_Songs of Innocence and Experience_?" he read. He'd never heard of the author, and when he flicked through, he was surprised to find that the book didn't contain potions instructions, or the history of the founders, or anything else of the kind... it contained poems. "Poetry?" he asked, doubtfully, trying his best not to come across as ungrateful.

"Muggle poetry," Severus agreed. Draco just stared at him, and was about to ask why when the fireplace flared and Mother stepped out, wearing a pair of startlingly red dress robes. In her arms was a stack of folded green fabric.

"Draco," she said, her eyes sweeping around the office. Draco saw them land on the covered tray, and at the book in Draco's hand. "Severus."

* * *

"Everyone has arrived," Narcissa told Draco, whose expression flickered and then went neutral, in the way that Severus' often did. Severus watched that with sad pride. "I brought your robes." She offered him the pile in her arms, and he set down his book and letter –which was tucked into the cover - so that he could take it.

"Is there-"

"The bathroom," Severus said. Narcissa's eyes tracked him across the room and then flicked to Severus. There was a moment of silence between them – the sort of silence where two people weigh each other, and reassess their standing – and then Narcissa took a step forward.

"A bold choice," he said, nodding at her robes. He'd seen her wear them before, so he wasn't shocked... just surprised by her timing; her home, would, no doubt, be swarming with generations of Slytherin and Ravenclaw purebloods and she was wearing Gryffindor red..

"Why?" Narcissa asked, arching a thin eyebrow. Severus stared at her, wondering if she genuinely didn't understand, and then inclined his head; it was, no doubt, the response she'd have given to everyone else that had asked. Narcissa was no fool, but people seemed to assume she was vague and entirely subservient to her husband like a good pureblood wife. Narcissa, in turn, knew_exactly_ how to use that to her advantage.

"Well played," he said quietly, and she graced him with a small, cool smile.

"What's this?" she asked, tracing the cover of the books Severus had given Draco.

"A book," Severus said. Narcissa's eyes narrowed. "Poetry."

"Poetry?" Narcissa asked. This time, she wasn't acting; she didn't understand.

"Yes, Narcissa, poetry," he said. He cast a silent _Muffliato _at the bathroom door. "You asked me to teach him-"

"I did," she agreed warily.

"And that is the intent. What is poetry?"

"Words," she said dismissively, and then, "Severus, it's been nearly two years since I first approached you, and you're still playing memory games, and-"

"And Draco is progressing well," he said. "His memory is exceptional, and his organisational skills are among the best I've ever seen. Once he is thirteen and can begin Occlumency, he will take to it like a broom to air-"

"I expected you to have moved on to spells," she said, "not- not poetry!"

"What's more dangerous, though? The wand, or the word?"

"Words make the wand work," Narcissa said, without hesitating, and Severus was grudgingly impressed. "But _spells_ are going to keep him alive! Poems-"

"Things aren't ever what they seem," he drawled. "A poem could be about one person or thing on the surface, but be, in actuality, about something _entirely_ different. Learning to look past face value so that he can interpret what lies beneath will serve him far better than knowing how to Stun something-" His lip curled. "I assure you, and _that_ is why I chose the book I did."

Narcissa didn't seem to have anything to say to that, nor did she have the chance; Draco emerged from the bathroom, struggling with his waistcoat. He collected his anthology from the desk, and smiled at Severus, who smiled faintly back. Comfortable as he was with Draco, he had an image to maintain, and Narcissa was still in the room.

Narcissa gave him a shrewd look, nodded at him, and then guided Draco toward the Floo.

* * *

Draco and Mother arrived at the Manor just as dinner was being served; Draco almost knocked into Dobby, who was dashing through the corridor with a plate loaded with steaming slices of bread in his skinny hands. Draco stole a piece, and Mother arched an eyebrow at him.

"What?" he asked.

"Take that upstairs," she said, nodding to the book. "And then come and greet everyone."

"Yes, Mother."

When Draco entered the dining room a few minutes later, he wasn't surprised or disappointed that no one paid him much attention. He just smiled at Dobby – whose stressed expression vanished for a few seconds so that he could smile back – and sat down in the empty seat between Theodore Nott and Vivienne Greengrass.

"Happy birthday," Theodore said in his usual, quiet manner, and his sister Catherine gave Draco a shy, dimpled smile. Vivienne was deep in conversation with her twin, Astoria – who, interestingly, had her back very pointedly turned toward her other sister, Daphne – and acknowledged him with a polite, sideways nod, but nothing more. Others – Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode and Nadia Shafiq, who had been talking – glanced at him and then away again, and Gregory Goyle, Vincent Crabbe and Daphne Greengrass, who'd been laughing, all fell silent.

Next to Hydrus, someone spoke, however, startling Draco.

"You must be Draco," the unknown boy said, offering his hand across the table. Draco shook it, nodding. "I'm Blaise Zabini." Pansy whispered something to Nadia, and then pair of them started to giggle. Draco rolled his eyes at them and then turned his attention back onto Blaise.

"Nice to meet you." Draco eyed the newcomer, who seemed quite comfortable.

"So everyone here's off to Hogwarts?" Blaise asked. "Eventually," he added, eyeing the Greengrass twins who were a year younger than the rest, and also Catherine, who was only five.

"Well," Hydrus drawled, "Father considered Durmstr-"

"Mother wouldn't hear of it," Draco said, cutting Hydrus off. Hydrus shot him an angry look, but Draco ignored it. "We were always going to Hogwarts." Everyone stared at him. "What?" he said. "It's true." Hydrus sighed in a long-suffering sort of way.

"What House are you hoping to be in, Blaise?"

"Slytherin," Blaise said at once.

_Lie, _Draco's head told him, before his eyes really even registered it. Hydrus – and everyone else at the table for that matter – seemed satisfied with the answer, and Blaise seemed satisfied with their satisfaction. Draco stared fixedly at him, re-evaluating; he'd taken Blaise to be another pureblood, cut from the same fancy fabric as every other person gathered, as himself, but now, he wasn't sure.

He was silent as Dobby put a bowl in front of him, and picked up his spoon out of habit, rather than interest; his attention was directed elsewhere. He watched as Blaise picked his spoon up – the wrong spoon – with complete confidence. Pansy cleared her throat, and the others exchanged confused looks.

"What?" Blaise asked.

"Wrong spoon," Millicent told him, since no one but Draco would if she didn't. If Draco hadn't been looking for it, he wouldn't have noticed Blaise's expression spasm into panic. The worry was gone almost immediately, though,, replaced by an arrogant smirk.

"So?" Blaise drawled. "Slytherins do what they _want._ And _I_ want to eat with _this _spoon." And he proceeded to do so, not seeming to care at all what any of the others thought.

"Brilliant," Pansy – ever the follower – exclaimed, and swapped her spoon too. Daphne followed suit.

"Yeah!" Crabbe guffawed. "We Slytherins do what we want!" He promptly picked up his fork and started trying to eat soup with that. His brother, Cyril, who was Catherine's age, mimicked him. None of the others had changed their silverware, but they weren't looking at Blaise like he was mad, either; they all seemed impressed. Draco just watched.

"So, how's out favourite Hufflepuff?" Daphne asked, flicking a berry at Draco, while everyone else ate dessert. Blaise had managed to use the right spoon this time, but lowered it when he saw the berry fly past. Everyone else had stopped too, to watch Draco, who did his best to ignore it. "Aww," she cooed, "are you not feeling friendly today-"

"Interesting," Astoria said, just loud enough that the others looked at her instead of her older sister.

"What is?" Daphne asked, her voice no longer high and mocking; it was sharp, and cool, and Draco wasn't sure about whether to be relieved that she was distracted, or insulted that she obviously thought that tiny Astoria was a bigger threat than he was.

"Well, just that it was very friendly of _you _to ask how Draco was-"

"I was teasing him, you-"

"If you have to explain that it was teasing, you haven't done a very good job," Astoria said primly. Daphne's face turned a nasty red. "And it's _Draco._" It wasn't scorn in Astoria's voice, but it was close. Hydrus snickered. "You're paying attention to the person here that's most starved of it..." She trailed off and smiled in a dazzling way, and Draco couldn't work out whether she was standing up for him, or just adding further insults. Daphne just stared at her. Astoria sighed, and gave Daphne a condescending look. "I just think it's interesting. Very considerate, and compassionate for a person that's supposed to want Slytherin..."

Astoria, having said what she wanted to, went back to her dessert. Daphne glared at her, and promptly turned to Nadia and Pansy, who both seemed upset on her behalf. Draco distinctly heard the words 'out of line', before the rest were lost in furious whispers. Millicent, though, was eyeing Astoria with a very contemplative expression.

"It's not very Slytherin of you to protect him, Astoria," Daphne said, pulling away from the other girls; it seemed they'd finally come up with something. Draco just kept his head down.

"I wasn't protecting _him_," Astoria said, sounding bored. She hadn't even looked up from her spoon, which she was loading with cream and a strawberry. "I was protecting our family, Daphne, because stupid things tend to come out when you open your mouth, and I'm rather trying to make sure you don't do too much damage." Daphne, rather unsurprisingly, had nothing to say to that.

The rest of dessert was tense, and Draco was thoroughly relieved when Dobby cleared the table and they could all escape to the drawing room. There, at least, they would have a chance to spread out. He found himself walking there, next to Astoria.

"Thank you," he said, even though that wasn't really what he was supposed to do. Aspiring Slytherins didn't say thank you; they just waited for a chance to return the favour and get themselves out of debt. Still, Draco hadn't been a conventional Slytherin for a long time.

"I didn't do it for you," Astoria said, without looking at him. Her pointy little nose remained firmly in the air, and her tone was lofty.

"I know that," he said snippily. He knew he didn't have any friends, or even any allies in the group, other than maybe Theodore, but he didn't particularly like to be reminded. Astoria said nothing. "You did it to spite your sister." That was only a suspicion of Draco's, but there'd been tension between the two – Vivienne seemed removed from it – for the past few months. Astoria pressed her lips together and gave him an irritated look. "But it helped me anyway, so I'm thanking you."

Now, she just looked puzzled. It was a look Draco had directed at him frequently, by all sorts of people; his family, his social circle, and even Potter, though Potter always looked bewildered, so Draco wasn't sure that that counted. "Now's the time where you say 'you're welcome'," Draco prompted.

"You're welcome," she said, flatly, and stalked into the drawing room. Vivienne was sitting with Theodore and Catherine, and Astoria went to join them. Hydrus had received his rat, Feta, and she was doing tricks to entertain everyone else. Draco's heart sank – his rat had been killed by a monster that got onto the Manor grounds last year – and unlike when Bosworth, Hydrus' first rat had vanished, Draco hadn't been given a replacement. He sat down in an armchair, and wondered if he'd be able to talk Mother and Father into buying him another rat, or even an owl when they went to Diagon Alley tomorrow, to get his wand and school things.

"Anyone using that?" Draco glanced up and saw Blaise, who'd broken away from the main group to hover beside the arm chair next to Draco's.

"I thought Slytherins did what they wanted," Draco said, arching an eyebrow.

"Sod off, kid," Blaise said, and sat down with a swish of robes and a roll of his eyes.

"I'm hardly a kid," Draco scoffed.

"It's your birthday," Blaise said. "That means you're younger than me, and that makes you a kid." Draco wasn't sure he liked Blaise all that much. Blaise said nothing, and then, "So this is it, huh?" Draco stared at him, wondering what sort of man Mr Zabini was, to have raised Blaise to speak so casually; he'd only met Giovanna Zabini a few times but he still knew she was very proper.

"This?" Draco asked.

"This," Blaise said, gesturing around. Most of the adults had retired to Father's office, but Mother and a few others were over on the couches, talking. "It's just a big game of politics, where everyone tries to be better than the next person."

"More or less," Draco sighed. Blaise gave him a curious look.

"And you lot find this fun?"

"I don't really speak for the majority," Draco said.

"I'd noticed," Blaise said wryly. "You just keep your head down... try to survive." Draco grunted. "We're not so different." Draco glanced over and saw, for the first time that night, an earnest expression on the other boy's face. He sort of believed him, but also sort of thought that this might be Hydrus, Pansy or Daphne's idea of a joke.

"Right," he said. His lip curled. "Except you don't really keep your head down."

"Different approach, same intended outcome, kid," Blaise said sagely, and then sighed, his mouth turning down at the corners.


	3. Keira And The Kettle

When Blaise hadn't returned to lessons after lunch, Harry hadn't been entirely surprised, and when Blaise hadn't shown up the next day, he didn't think anything of it. When Blaise didn't show up on Monday, though, Harry started to worry; not only was Blaise gone, but Mr Benson had taken a few days off – apparently for health reasons. By Friday, Mr Benson was back, but he looked tired, and like he'd lost a bit of weight. And, when Mrs Phelps ticked them off the class list that morning, Blaise's name wasn't even called.

"I don't think he's coming back," Harry said to Hermione the following Monday.

"I know," she said, in a low voice, watching Mrs Phelps. She was worried, obviously, but she and Blaise hadn't got on as well as Blaise and Harry, so Harry didn't think she missed him quite as much. Still, her slight worry was probably more than Blaise would have had for her, had she been the one who'd disappeared. Harry, for his part, missed his friend a lot. Hermione was great, but there was very little joking around when it was just the pair of them. There'd been a lot of talks about magic, but Hermione didn't really like Quidditch, and Harry wasn't quite ready to tell her about his Animagus work, and Hermione loved the theories behind magic, while Harry had always been a very practical sort of person.

As a result, Harry spent a lot of time listening to her explaining things she'd read in obscure textbooks, or her favourite _Hogwarts: A History_, or trying to answer questions about the magical world, and about Padfoot, Moony and Kreacher before Hermione could ask more.

"I was thinking I might try to, you know, write. To Blaise, I mean," Harry whispered. "I spoke to Padfoot about it, and he says Zabini's a solicitor... even if she's taken time off, she's got to be contactable, so if I send Hedwig-" Hermione, who'd been writing down the new week's spelling words, glanced over, interested despite herself.

"Who?"

"Oh, she's our owl," Harry said.

"Assuming it can go directly to Blaise... what would you write?" Hermione asked. She glanced around the classroom and then lowered her voice so that Harry had to lean over to hear her. "You can't really be thinking of explaining who you are on a piece of paper, can you?"

"No," Harry said, "I'll just stay as Evans for now. He can assume I'm muggleborn too." Harry just hoped the muggleborn factor wouldn't stop the letter from making it to Blaise; he suspected Zabini was probably the type to discriminate against muggleborns. He also hoped wherever Blaise was living wasn't as heavily warded as Grimmauld, or Hedwig, clever as she was, would never make it through.

"But-"

"Hermione," Mrs Phelps said warningly, "Harry, I hope you two are getting these down, or you'll struggle in Thursday's test..."

"We are; sorry," Hermione said at once, ducking her head. She began to scribble words down, and was so focused on her work that Harry wondered if she'd forgotten he was there. He sighed, pulled a pencil out of his pencilcase, and started to write them down in his school diary. Hermione didn't speak to him for the rest of the afternoon; Harry wasn't sure if she was annoyed he'd almost got her in trouble, or if she was just interested in what the teacher had to say.

She did, however, start talking to him as soon as Mrs Phelps dismissed them, and chattered happily to him about that afternoon; he'd invited her over, to meet Padfoot, Moony and Kreacher, and Dora (if she was there, and not at training) and to pull what might also be the biggest prank of his young career. 

* * *

"-ah, hold that, sorry," Sirius said, putting his hand up. Marlene paused, mid-sentence, and Sirius pulled his burning Sidekick out of his pocket. He murmured the password, and it clicked open.

"Black," Hemsley's voice said, "where are you?"

"Just having lunch," Sirius replied. "Down in the Ministry cafe. Why?"

"We'll meet you in the Atrium," Hemsley said, and his voice cut off.

"Damn," Sirius said. "Guess lunch is over." He scooped up what remained of his burger and stuffed it into his mouth.

"That's disgusting," Marlene said, eating a chip off her fork.

"Di' oo expe' anefink ele'?" Sirius asked, and she pulled a face.

"No," she said. He swallowed so that he could grin at her. She gave him a wry smile back. "No, not really."

"I'll see you soon," he said, tossing a few sickles onto the table to cover his lunch.

"Probably," she agreed. He threw her a last grin over his shoulder and stepped out, nodding at a few people he knew.

He got to the Atrium just as Hemsley – flanked by two others; Brown, and someone else - arrived in the lift and swept toward him. Sirius couldn't work out why Hemsley was wearing a cloak over his robes; it was the middle of June, for Merlin's sake, and far too hot for that, in Sirius opinion... although, Sirius' body temperature was always a little higher than the average person's, thanks to Padfoot.

"You remember Dirk Cresswell," Hemsley said.

"Of course," Sirius said, shaking Dirk's hand. He knew him from school – Dirk had been a Hufflepuff, in Reg's year – and also from his work in the Ministry. Back in early January, it was Dirk who'd approached them with their current case, because he was quite high up in the Goblin Liason Office. Dirk was a portly little man, with a bulbous nose, curly brown hair and a near-permanent smile, but right now, he looked tired and sad. "What's happened?" Sirius asked.

"A goblin," Dirk said sadly, "was killed. Murdered."

"_What_?" Sirius asked. Goblins didn't have wands, but they had powerful magic of their own, and a rather strong desire not to be bested by wizards, ever. Hemsley nodded grimly, and Brown mimicked the gesture perfectly.

"Not five minutes ago. We have witnesses," Hemsley sighed. "Someone used an Unforgivable, of all things, and then Apparated away with the body. The Hit Wizards are there now, but it's a mess." Sirius arched an eyebrow and Dirk straightened his muggle-style tie and shoved his hands into his pockets. "That's where we come in," Hemsley sighed. He stepped into one of the fireplaces and said, "Leaky Cauldron." Dirk was swallowed up in the fireplace next to theirs, and Brown and Sirius spent half a second looking at each other before Brown shoved past and vanished into the fire. Sirius rolled his eyes and followed.

They split up in Diagon Alley; Dirk and Hemsley headed to the bank, to question the dead goblin's superiors and co-workers, while Sirius and Brown went down Knockturn Alley to question the witnesses. Sirius, reluctant to be left alone with Brown, tried to reason his way into going with Dirk – he thought it made sense, given that his cousin Andy worked there as a liason for muggleborns, and that he was well respected amongst goblins, because of his name, and the gold that went with it – but Hemsley just shook his head and sent them on their way.

"And Brown," he called, as they parted ways, "listen to Black; he's your superior while I'm gone." Sirius smirked at Brown – he had a whole lot of things he wanted to say – but Brown seemed annoyed enough so he stayed quiet.

Knight – a Hit Witch, who'd testified at Sirius' trial – was there with a handful of witches and wizards, and Bennett was warding the area of Apparition, so that the traces left behind could be read later. Sirius took in the area; it was a sheltered part of the alley - and that was saying something, given how sheltered Knockturn Alley already was - just in front of a shop that sold a lot of illegal, rather dangerous creatures. A frazzled looking wizard was trying to calm an enormous, spiny bat, and his shop hand – a greasy haired girl with filed teeth – was talking to a smoking cage full of firecrabs. A cloaked figure was leaning against the wall of the bookshop next door.

"Go take their statements," Sirius told Brown, gesturing to the witnesses gathered on the street with Knight.

"Me?" Brown asked, looking suspicious. "Where are you going?"

"To interview that banshee," Sirius said. Brown made a noise that sounded a lot like a squeak and hurried over to Knight, and Sirius strode toward Walpole's.

"Auror Black."

"Keira," Sirius said, smiling at the strong, Irish voice that came from beneath the hood. He held out his hand, and a pale green, long nailed hand emerged from the folds of the cloak to clasp his. "How've you been?" He hadn't been down Knockturn Alley in months; Aurors weren't really supposed to, and Harry'd been at school, so he hadn't needed any new or unusual literature. They had, however, exchanged a few letters.

"Well, until now," she replied. "How is Harry?"

"He's good," Sirius said, smiling for the briefest moment.

"And your evil necklace?" He didn't need to see her face to tell how much she disliked it; her tone was indicative enough. "Any luck?" A scowl flickered over Sirius' face. It had been a few weeks since he'd given the locket any thought; it remained safely tucked away in a warded cabinet in the drawing room, and would, until he found a spell or potion that could permanently destroy it.

"None," he sighed. She sighed too. Sirius glanced over at Brown, to make sure he was coping – he was looking panicked, and being shouted at by a hag, and by a spindly looking wizard – and Sirius decided he was, and so turned back to Keira. "Sorry to be abrupt, but have you go any idea what happened here?"

"Several," she said. "Would you like to hear them?"

"If you wouldn't mind," Sirius said.

"The goblin was next door," Keira said, nodding at the magical creature shop. "I have seen many visiting there in the last few months."

"Do you know what this one was looking at?" Sirius asked. She shook her head. Sirius turned and whistled at Brown, who scurried over, looking relieved.

"They're mad," he said, and then noticed Keira and stepped away, looking rather pale.

"Do I make you nervous?" she asked. Brown shook his head frantically. "Hm," Keira said, not seeming impressed.

"See that bloke, and his shop assistant?" Sirius said, snapping his fingers to get Brown's attention. Brown nodded, apparently unable to look away from Keira's hood. "Brown."

"Yeah, sure," Brown said, finally tearing his eyes away from Keira.

"Go and ask them what the goblins have been looking at."

"But- the statements-"

"This is more important," Sirius said. Brown rolled his eyes, and then flinched when Keira planted her hands on her hips. He walked off. "Sorry about-"

"He is normal," Keira said, not seeming bothered. "And predictable. It is the strange ones that do not treat me differently, that surprise me." Though he couldn't see her face, Sirius got the impression that she was smiling her strange smile at him. He grinned.

"So after the goblin finished looking-" Keira shook her head.

"He never did; a person-"

"Can you describe them?"

"No, they were wearing a cloak. I don't even know their gender," she said, sounding ashamed.

"That's all right," Sirius sighed.

"But they were standing over there when they killed him with a spell-"

"A green one?"

"Yes, green. A green spell, while the goblin's back was turned."

"Did this person Apparate in, or were they already there, hiding?"

"I only noticed when I saw the spell light through the window," she said, shaking her head. "And then the goblin fell, and the person came over, took hold of its arm and vanished."

"Who called the Hit Wizards?" Sirius asked.

"Madam Walpole," Keira said, gesturing toward the witnesses; sure enough, hunched old Madam Walpole was there. "After I asked her to. The Aurors prefer to deal with humans... or most do." Again, Sirius got the impression she was smiling at him. "This one, certainly," she added, and Sirius turned in time to see Brown coming over. He gestured to Sirius, who sighed, thanked Keira and went to talk with Brown.

"He's not talking," Brown said, looking sulky, and a bit embarrassed. Sirius glanced over at the shop owner, who was glowering at them, arms folded.

"What did you do?" Sirius asked, chuckling. Brown scowled, insulted, but didn't come back with a retort.

"I asked him what the goblins have been looking at, and he told me it was none of my business, so I showed him my badge and he said he wasn't dealing with Aurors and I told him he had to do what I told him to, but he just won't talk. He's a prick!"

"Wait here," Sirius said. He approached the shop owner, Sidekick raised, so that the words _Auror Sirius Black_ were clearly visible. "Afternoon," he said. "I'm Auror Black-"

"You're him," the shopkeeper said. "That one that was a Death Eater."

"I've never been a Death Eater," Sirius said coolly. "I am an Auror, and I've come to ask about your customers; the goblins, in particular."

"It's none of your business," the man said.

"You said that to Trainee Brown too," Sirius said, "but I think you'll find that it _is_ in fact, our business." He smiled in a way that made the other man look nervous for the first time. "There's a murder investigation happening right here, right now. You're not legally obliged to answer any of our questions-"

"I know," the man said, looking smug.

"-but if you don't, it makes it look an awful lot like you've got something to hide."

"I don't." Sirius arched an eyebrow.

"Sir," he said in a tone as insolent as he could manage, "it was a witness' statement that led us to question you in the first place. That's indicative that whatever you know - and aren't sharing - is something important... something potentially case-solving, in fact-"

"You don't know that-"

"You don't know that it's not," Sirius replied. "I'm not here to cause trouble for you, but I can and will arrest you-"

"For not talking?" the man sneered. Sirius was quiet for a moment.

"I could decide you're a suspect," he said eventually. "And I could take you away to be properly questioned – you'd be allowed to have a solicitor, of course, and fight for your rights to stay silent, but that'd make you look even more guilty... It would also, frankly, be a waste of everyone's time. You can give me five minutes of your time and a few honest answers, or I can take five days of yours, and close your shop in the meantime so that I, or other members of the DM.L.E. can search it for evidence."

"Search my shop?" the man asked, his eyes widening. Sirius had no doubt the man had all sorts of incriminating documents and creatures in there, but he wasn't interested in that this time; Knockturn Alley had a reputation for being dodgy – even Walpole's had a less than stellar reputation – but Aurors rarely bothered, for a number of reasons; firstly, Knockturn's inhabitants were rough, but not usually dangerous unless threatened (except for hags that sold human fingernails and the like), secondly, the shops stocked a lot of rare items and ingredients that came in handy from time to time, and thirdly, it was a very good place to run surveillance or set up traps for the wizarding world's nastier occupants, who felt safe in the area.

"I'd rather not," Sirius said, "but I know you know something, and I need to know what." The man hesitated. "I'll tell you what: you share what you know, and it stays off record. That way, even if you say something you shouldn't, you can't be prosecuted for it. Sound fair?"

"Sound too good to be true," the man said.

"I'm desperate here," Sirius said, in a self-deprecating voice. The man looked pleased, obviously liking the falsely powerful position Sirius had given him.

"Dragons," the man said in a low voice. "That goblin, he was looking at dragons."

"Dragons?" Sirius asked, as a few pieces clicked into place. The man nodded importantly.

"They don't usually buy here – usually, they buy direct from smugglers, but security's been tight in sanctuaries, after that egg got taken from Romania. Only the best get through, so the market's dry, except in a few places."

"Here?"

"I got the best."

Sirius asked him a few more things, and then went to rejoin Brown, who was looking at the Apparition traces with a pair of trace readers. One vanished as Sirius approached.

"Well?" Brown asked, glancing away from the place of Disapparition.

"Dragons," Sirius said.

"Dragons?" Brown asked; he looked torn between wanting to scowl because Sirius had won information Brown couldn't, and thoughtful. "You reckon they're scared?"

"Who, the goblins?" Brown nodded. "That's exactly what I think," Sirius said, impressed that Brown had got the point so quickly Still, no one had ever accused Brown of being stupid. "They've been trying to get dragons since March-"

"-when the blueprints were stolen," Brown said. Sirius nodded. "So, what, our goblin was about to buy another hatchling to raise into security work, and someone killed it to stop that, or-"

"Dunno," Sirius said. The second trace reader Apparated back and shook her head.

"Multi-coloured magic," she said, as Brown wrote everything down. "Green, black, navy, and lots of silver. Gone. The person, whoever they were, went to an abandoned house in the outskirts of London and then left again. I don't know if it was a Portkey, or broomstick, or Floo, or by Apparition, but they're gone, and the goblin too."

"Thank you," Sirius said. "I reckon we've done what we can here." The trace readers nodded and vanished with pops. "We should find Hemsley," Sirius told Brown. "He'll want to know about all of this."

He sent Brown to tell the remaining witnesses to owl the Auror Department if they felt like they had anything else to share, while Sirius himself went over to thank Keira again. Then, he and Brown made their way to the bank, where a quick flash of their Sidekicks was all it took to have a goblin named Gornuk escort them to where Hemsley and Dirk were talking to the Head Goblin. Several other goblins were in the room, either watching, or talking amongst themselves. Dirk appeared to be doing most of the conversing; either the goblin didn't speak English, or was too proud or lazy to bother.

"May I present Black and Brown," Hemsley said, into a pause. "My partner and trainee."

"A pleasure," the Head Goblin said flatly, showing his pointed teeth. He said something to Dirk in his harsh language.

"Did you find anything?" Dirk asked.

"The goblin was killed trying to buy a dragon, or dragon's egg," Sirius said; Brown was just staring at the goblins in the room and Sirius didn't trust him not to squeak, or speak offensively. "They-"

"He," Dirk said, and Sirius nodded.

"He was killed with the Killing Curse from behind, and taken from the scene. We spoke with witnesses, and we had trace readers examine what was left behind, but couldn't track them past the first destination."

The Head Goblin steepled his long fingers and sighed. He said something to Griphook - another goblin in the room - and Griphook came forward. Then the Head Goblin spoke to Dirk again, and Dirk nodded.

"You three can go, Alexander," Dirk said to Hemsley, who nodded. The goblins watched them with dark eyes as they left, escorted by Griphook.

They went back to the Ministry for the rest of the afternoon; Brown and Hemsley spent a lot of time debriefing – Sirius was glad Hemsley did that, because Brown needed the feedback, and Sirius knew it wouldn't be as well received if it came from him – while Sirius started writing up his report. Being an Auror wasn't dull by any means, but there was a lot more paperwork than most people thought.

"...another way you might have handled that situat-"

"I'm off," Sirius said, waving his sheet of parchment at Hemsley, who was still sitting with Brown. He copied it with a tap of his wand, left one for Hemsley to read and add to their personal case file, and then took the original down the corridor to Scrimgeour's office. Scrimgeour wasn't there, so Sirius just left it on his desk.

Part of Sirius wanted to stay, and keep looking over their reports, to see if they'd missed anything, and part of him wanted nothing more than to get home and try not to think about it; being an Auror wasn't a job that ended when he left the Ministry, because there was always something to do, someone to question, a report to write, and Sirius had learned years ago, and then again recently, that he had to _make_ it end, and try to stop thinking about it when he left work, if he wanted any peace of mind.

Besides, that afternoon wasn't going to be without its own drama; Harry's friend Hermione was coming over, Harry's _muggle_ friend – Sirius still wasn't entirely sure how he'd let Harry talk him into that one – and he and Sirius had spent hours putting up muggle repulsion wards on certain rooms of the house, and hiding anything magical – Kreacher had instructions to make himself scarce – that could raise awkward questions.

He Apparated into the garden of a rundown house around the corner from the school, took off his robes, so that he was just wearing a tshirt and a pair of jeans, and then hid his Sidekick, wand and robes in his rucksack. Then, he jumped the fence – hoping no one had seen him – stepped onto the footpath, and wandered toward the school, like a normal, muggle parent.

Harry and Hermione were waiting at Harry's usual pickup place when he got there, whispering to each other.

"-lying, Harry-"

"It's fine," Harry said, and then grinned and stepped forward to greet Sirius, who hugged him. Sirius released Harry and smiled at Hermione.

"Hello, Mr Evans," she said nervously.

"Hello, Hermione," he said. "I hope you don't mind walking-"

"No," she said quickly, "I'd usually have to walk to the bus stop anyway, and then home, so-"

"She doesn't mind," Harry said, and Hermione, who'd looked like she was about to start babbling, seemed grateful that he'd stepped in to translate. "How was work, Padfoot?"

"Busy," Sirius said. "Keira sends her best, though."

"Keira?" Harry asked, looking surprised. "What were you doing over there?"

"Long story," Sirius said, glancing at Hermione, who was staring very hard at him. "How was school?" he asked her. She seemed startled.

"Oh," she said, "Good, thank you." She glanced at Harry, and he just nodded encouragingly. She still looked and smelled very nervous.

"Are you looking forward to the holidays?" Sirius asked, trying to calm her down a bit.

"Oh yes," she said, smiling for the first time. "There's an international dental convention in America over the summer, and Dad's been invited, so Mum and I are going to go too, and then we'll travel a bit and be back in mid August, so I can have some time at home before school starts."

Sirius didn't pry about schools; if he brought that up, she'd probably ask about Harry's schooling prospects and Sirius wasn't going to get into that.

"Where in America?" he asked instead. Hermione seemed relieved too, and began to rattle off a list of places, some of which Sirius knew about, and others he hadn't known existed until she said them.

"Is Moony going to be over tonight?" Harry asked.

"I've told him he's welcome; Dora too," Sirius said. Remus' mother had been a muggleborn, and Ted, Dora's father was as well. She'd also gone to a muggle primary school, like Harry. Neither of them were quite as likely to slip up as Sirius was.

"Here?" Hermione asked, when they arrived in front of Number Twelve. She seemed surprised for some reason.

"What were you expecting?" Harry asked, arching an eyebrow. Hermione seemed embarrassed and muttered something Sirius didn't catch. Harry just smiled and led the way to the door, while Sirius extracted his wand behind Hermione's back, and flicked it to open the door, just as Harry turned the handle. Hermione glanced over her shoulder, and Sirius only just had time to stuff his wand up his sleeve.

_This was a bad idea, _he thought, stepping inside. 

* * *

"You can leave your bag there, if you want," Harry said, waving to the hallway floor. He kept his own schoolbag on, thinking he'd either leave it in the kitchen, or take it upstairs. "Hungry?" Hermione nodded, still looking around curiously. Harry knew she was looking for signs of magic, but Padfoot didn't, and he was looking rather disconcerted.

"Sure," she said. She swung her bag off and tucked it off to one side, where, Harry remembered the troll's leg umbrella stand had used to live. "Kitchen's this way," he said. Hermione followed him, and Padfoot followed the pair of them; Harry wasn't sure which of them was more nervous; Hermione for not being completely honest with Padfoot, or Padfoot for thinking he was going to inadvertently break the statute. He hid a smile. Hermione gasped as they passed the stairs, and pointed up at the landings. "What?" Harry asked.

"Is that- is this four storeys?!" she asked, peering up. "It only looked like two from the outside!" Padfoot's mouth fell open, and he made a small noise that sounded like a cross between a groan and a squeak. "How-"

"This way," Harry said, guiding her off to the left, toward the kitchen stairs. Hermione looked like she was dying to ask, and he suspected she'd bombard him as soon as she had the chance, but thankfully, she just gave the stairs a longing look and let Harry lead her. Kreacher had left a plate of biscuits on the table, and a tray of small meat pies in the oven.

"Is that safe?" Hermione asked, glancing at the oven. "If no one was home, then-" Padfoot looked stricken for a moment, and then relaxed:

"I was," Moony said, appearing at the top of the stairs. He smiled at Hermione. "John Evans," he said. "Patrick's brother." Padfoot and Harry were both sporting sandy hair so it was believable enough, even if Moony had brown eyes and theirs were currently blue. "You must be Hermione."

"Hello," she said nervously. Harry saw Moony's nostrils widen and then a look of concern painted itself over his face. Hermione looked at Harry, obviously trying to place Moony from the stories Harry had told her in the last week and a half.

"I didn't know you were here, Moony," Harry said. Hermione's eyes sparked with recognition, and she relaxed a bit, and took a bite of her pie.

"I thought you might like something to eat when you got home," he said. Harry thought that Kreacher would be scowling if he could hear this, and grinned at the thought.

"Thanks, mate," Padfoot said, looking relieved to have someone else there. Moony sat down and helped himself to a biscuit and a pie, and then looked at Harry and Hermione.

"New words today?" he asked. Harry made a noise of disgust, nodded, and pulled out his school diary. Moony looked over this week's spelling words. "They're not bad," he said. "What do you think?"

"If I make any mistakes, they'll be silly ones," Hermione said. "They're reasonably common words, so I should be all right, as long as I practice." Harry rolled his eyes; she probably didn't need to practice.

"Are you going to study properly this week?" Padfoot asked Harry, sniggering. Hermione looked scandalised.

"You didn't practice?!"

"I did!" Harry protested. "Moony and I went over them on Thursday morning." Hermione pursed her lips.

"Where do 'Moony' and 'Padfoot' come from?"

"School nicknames," Padfoot said easily; that was a half-truth he had experience telling. "I suppose they stuck."

"But 'Moony'...?" Hermione asked.

"It was a dare," Moony muttered. "I'm not proud of it." Padfoot sniggered, and Harry knew there was truth to that as well, though that wasn't where the name had come from. "Oh, shut up, Pads," Moony said, elbowing him. Padfoot got up to make tea, and was laughing so hard that he dropped the kettle. He reached for it, but in doing so, dropped his wand, which must have been in his sleeve.

The kettle landed with a clanging noise, on the stone floor, and the wand with a wooden rattle. Padfoot might have been able to brush the whole situation off, had his wand not shot out a whole bunch of red sparks, and turned the kettle into a fat, copper-skinned frog. Hermione made a noise of surprise, Moony and Padfoot both swore, and Harry fell off the bench because he was laughing so much. The frog made a noise rather like a kettle whistling, and Padfoot hastily scooped it up and deposited it in the sink under a bowl. It croaked again, sounding distinctly metallic this time.

"Harry, why don't you go and show Hermione the rest of the house," Moony said, looking very worried. Harry wheezed and tried to pick himself up off the floor, but couldn't quite manage it.

"Your kettle just turned into a frog," Hermione said faintly, and Harry didn't think she was even playing along; she just seemed stunned, and he remembered she probably hadn't seen much magic other than McGonagall's, and the spells she'd tried herself. "Harry-"

"_Harry_," Padfoot said, looking panicked. Harry just laughed harder at the look on his face, but managed to get off the floor this time.

"All right. Come on," he said, grabbing Hermione's arm. A chuckle slipped out, and Hermione looked at him beseechingly. Harry shook his head.

Moony and Padfoot were already standing over the sink, talking in low voices. Harry distinctly heard 'statute', 'muggle', 'bloody frog' and 'Obliviate', before Hermione cleared her throat, looking horrendously guilty.

"Mr Evans- I mean, Mr Black-" Sirius and Moony spun around so quickly that Harry wondered how they hadn't cracked their necks. "You don't have to worry," she said, "I... umm... I know. I-"

Moony was staring at her, mouth agape. Then he closed it, looking immensely relieved, and began to laugh. Padfoot opened his mouth, swelled, made an odd noise, as if he wanted to say something, but couldn't manage it.

"You're a witch?" he croaked. Hermione nodded, biting her lip. Harry was already running for the stairs, and heard Hermione speak up behind him.

"I'm sorry I didn't say anything earlier, Harry didn't- I just don't want you to worry- Oh!" She made another startled noise, and Harry heard claws scrabbling on the stone floor, and glanced over his shoulder – without slowing – to see Padfoot charging up the stairs after him.

Hermione and Moony stayed down in the kitchen – Harry could hear Moony explaining things in his 'teacher' voice, and introducing himself properly – while Padfoot chased Harry around the upper levels of the house. Padfoot caught him outside the library, and pounced before transforming back.

"You should have seen your faces!" Harry gasped, and Padfoot stared at him, shocked for the briefest moment, before he started laughing too. It didn't stop him from tickling Harry to within an inch of his life, though.

They didn't introduce Hermione to Kreacher that day, but they did the next Monday, and Kreacher was suspicious, but very polite, and if he had any problems with having a muggleborn in his house, he didn't voice them to Harry or to Padfoot.

Hermione quickly became a regular, on Monday afternoons. They'd sit in the kitchen and answer her questions, or let her loose in the library for a few hours, or play cards, or chess, or occasionally even doing their muggle homework. Harry and Padfoot took to dropping her home, after a problem with the muggle repulsion wards that Padfoot's father had set years ago... The first time they came by, they were unable to find the house, or their daughter.

The only reason they hadn't panicked and called the police, was because McKinnon had gone outside to see what the commotion was about, and worked out what had happened. Harry wasn't sure how long she'd known they were living there, but that was another prank in itself; she walked right inside, stopped at the bottom of the stairs and started yelling for Padfoot – who, of course, she couldn't see, thanks to the Fidelius Charm (and he had seemed quite happy that that was the case). Moony had taken Hermione outside to her parents and apologised profusely, and McKinnon had, in the end, stayed for dinner; Moony asked her, because Padfoot was too nervous to.


	4. The Break-In

"Guess we know why the blueprints were stolen," Sirius said, approaching Hemsley and Brown through the damp tunnels that wound around beneath Diagon Alley.

"Apparently," Hemsley said, his expression tight. "Did you find anything?" Sirius stepped into their circle of wandlight, hauling his captive with him. Hemsley took a step backward, revolted, and Brown's mouth fell open.

"Is that-"

"Krognug," Sirius said, as Krognug, or what remained of him, snarled, and tried to squirm free. Sirius tightened his grip on the leather collar he'd conjured and forced around the goblin's neck. "Our missing goblin."

"But he's supposed to be dead!" Brown said. "Everyone saw the Killing Curse, but he looks alive to me."

"Sort of," Hemsley said, stepping forward to examine Krognug with a morbid sort of curiosity; bits of the goblin had rotten away, and his skin was a ghastly grey colour. "I've never heard a goblin make those noises-"

"He's an Inferius," Sirius said, rattling the collar. Krognug wheezed and tried to charge at Hemsley, but Sirius restrained him. Hemsley stepped back. "They – whoever it was - used him to get past the guards, and through all the goblin exclusive warding."

"Ew," Brown said, and for once, Sirius agreed with him. "So he's just been like- well, like _that_ for over a month?"

"You should come over here and smell him," Sirius said darkly. "Good news is, the vault had been emptied. Not ten minutes before the break-in, apparently, which is bloody lucky."

"What-"

"They won't say what was in the vault, or who owned it," Sirius said. "But maybe once Dirk gets here, you'll have more luck." Hemsley nodded as he took this in.

"Not how you pictured your day off?" Hemsley asked, with a wry smile.

"No, not exactly," Sirius said. They'd received two letters over breakfast; one from Hermione, in America, which had been delivered by a weary Hedwig, wishing Harry a happy birthday, and one from a Hogwarts owl; Harry's letter had arrived – and been received with much excitement (some of it Sirius', most of it Harry's) and some sulking from Kreacher – that morning. Sirius had expected a quiet, fun afternoon with Harry and Remus, shopping for Harry's school things. He hadn't expected his Sidekick to go off while they were looking for cauldrons, though his location was convenient; he'd beaten the Hit Wizards to the scene.

"You're bleeding," Brown said. Sirius rubbed his cheek and felt three shallow cuts that would – if he felt inclined to try to match it up – be an exact fit for Krognug's long fingernails.

"Little git," he muttered, and then sighed. "I'll deal with it later."

"Did you want to go?" Hemsley asked. "We'll need a report from you, but you can write that at home... we can handle the rest here."

"Are you sure? I don't min-"

"Go on," Hemsley said. "Come September, you'll be on full time, and you'll be wishing you'd taken time off when you had it." Sirius couldn't fault his reasoning, so he carefully handed Krognug over to Brown, washed his hands with his wand, and made his way back out into the main part of the bank. It was completely empty except for staff – mostly goblins, but a cluster of humans were over at the far end. Sirius caught Andy's eye and nodded at her, and then nodded again as he passed Scrimgeour on the way out.

"The vultures have arrived," the other man murmured. Sirius glanced at him, puzzled, and then stepped through the heavy bronze doors.

"Black! Mr Black! Auror Black! Sirius!" Reporters had already set up outside the bank, which Sirius couldn't help but be impressed by, given the break-in had only happened ten minutes ago.

"No comment," Sirius said, trying to get past the mob, but they just closed in around him. "Get out of my way, please."

"Was anyone hurt? Was anything taken?" Sirius said nothing, just kept his head down and kept walking.

"How are the goblins handling this? Will they close the bank?"

"I'm not at liberty to discuss an ongoing case," Sirius said tersely. "_Excuse me_."

"Where were you doing today before you were called in?" a witch in magenta robes asked. "Are you here alone, or are you with someone else? Harry Potter? A romantic partner?"

"Has your relationship with your godson suffered since you took this new job?"

"Is Harry looking forward to Hogwarts? How will you cope when he's gone?"

"Are you still in contact with the werewolf Lupin?" More than half of the reporters followed Sirius away from the bank; the other half had pounced on a goblin spokesperson.

"Excuse me," Sirius said again.

"How does it feel, Mr Black, to go from criminal, to law enforcer?"

"Do you-"

"Oh, for- _Caligo_," he murmured, and smirked as everyone shrieked and stumbled over each other to get away from the fog. Sirius tucked his wand away, transformed and bolted. He sought shelter behind a rubbish bin and waited for everyone to disperse – and by disperse, he meant return to hassling the people and goblins leaving the bank – before transforming back and altering a few of his features; Patrick Evans was his most common disguise these days. He also turned his robes navy, so that he wouldn't stand out.

Then, he shoved his hands into his pockets, and went for a wander to find Harry and Remus. They were easy to find, in the end; the pair of them, and a rather conspicuous third member, were sitting under one of the umbrellas at Fortescue's, enjoying icecream.

"Hello, Hagrid," he said. Hagrid looked confused, and then lowered his voice. "Sirius?"

"The one and only," he said, grinning. Hagrid beamed and patted him on the shoulder. Sirius staggered and fell rather ungracefully onto the fourth seat at the table. "I had a bit of trouble with reporters."

"We saw," Remus said, nodding down the busy street. From where they were sitting they'd have had a clear, albeit distant view of Sirius' little spectacle. "And we ordered you that, figuring you'd be along soon enough." Harry pushed a slightly melted, peanut butter fudge – Sirius still didn't eat chocolate after the Dementor's Draught incident – sundae toward him, and Sirius scooped up a mouthful, delighted.

"Thanks," he said. Remus just smiled at him.

"Wha' happened to yer face?" Hagrid asked.

"It's nothing," Sirius said, waving a hand; he was more occupied with his icecream. "So what're you doing down here, Hagrid?"

"On official Hogwarts business," he said proudly, patting his coat pocket. "Dumbledore sent me ter sort out a few things fer him." He pulled a large pocket watch out of his coat and nodded importantly. "Best be movin' on, in fact. It was nice ter see yeh Sirius, Remus. An' happy birthday, Harry."

"Thanks, Hagrid," Harry said. "Thanks for the sweets!"

"It's nothin'," Hagrid said, beaming at him nonetheless. He waved his enormous hand at the three of them and disappeared into the crowd surprisingly quickly for a man of his height and bulk.

"How were things at the bank?" Remus asked.

"Later," Sirius replied in a low voice. Remus nodded, and Harry just licked his icecream, oblivious.

* * *

Madam Malkin's was their final stop of the day, and the one that Harry was least interested to visit. Moony'd left after icecream, to meet up with Tonks, and wasn't back yet, and Padfoot had had to answer his Sidekick, so Harry went in alone.

"Hogwarts robes, dear?" a kind-faced witch asked, bustling over from the other side of the shop.

"Er, yes," Harry said. "Please."

"Well, I see you're just as articulate as ever," a familiar voice drawled. Madam Malkin seemed ready to tell him off, but Harry just smiled wryly.

"Draco," he said.

"Potter." Draco was standing on a podium, while an enchanted sewing needle adjusted his robes. Hydrus was next to him, still being measured.

"Potter."

"Hydrus," Harry sighed.

"Just up here, if you wouldn't mind, dear," Madam Malkin said, conjuring a block for Harry beside Draco's. "That's it. Arms out, if you wouldn't mind." She started taking measurements by hand.

"Is it one of your birthdays?" Harry asked, looking at the Malfoys.

"No," Draco said, as if he was daft. "Mother just didn't see the point of buying robes that we'd grow out of before school even started, so we put it off."

"Oh," Harry said. He looked down, and was a little surprised to see that Madam Malkin was gone; she was talking to an elderly witch that had entered the shop. The tape measure nudged Harry's ankle, and then stretched up to his hip, and a floating piece of chalk scribbled the measurements down on a nearby blackboard. "Right. Are your parents around?"

"Father's next door because Hydrus forgot a book," Draco said.

"Did not!" Hydrus snapped.

"Then why do I have it when you don't?" Draco asked. "And Mother's at Ollivanders-"

"Don't you have wands yet?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Of course we do," Hydrus said, rolling his eyes. "Do we look like muggles-"

"Other than the robes, we're indistinguishable," Draco told him. Hydrus looked horrified. "Do you really think you can tell someone's bloodline just by looking at them?" Harry smirked. "I mean, look at the Weasleys; you'd never know they were purebloods, would you?" Harry's face fell; Draco might not have meant it to be offensive (or he might have, with Draco it was hard to tell), but it still came across that way. He turned to Harry. "She wanted to talk to him about cores and woods."

"She- your mother?"

"Well, yes, Potter, that's what we were just talking about," Draco said, looking exasperated.

"Keep up," Hydrus sneered.

"You're done, dear," Madam Malkin said, coming back over. She helped Draco extract his arms from his new school robes and he jumped off the block and went to examine a rack of robes. "Now, do-"

"Just leave them on the counter," Hydrus said dismissively; the sewing needles had moved onto his hems now.

"Thank you," Draco added, giving Madam Malkin a polite smile. She looked a bit confused, but walked off. Draco gave Hydrus a reprimanding look. "Mother would be furious if she'd seen you treat her like that."

"Mother's not here," Hydrus said loftily.

"That isn't the point," Draco said, irritated, and then glanced at Harry, who was watching them silently. "So how've you been, Potter?"

"Oh, er-"

"Did you even read your dictionary?" Draco asked, frowning at him.

"Yes," Harry said.

"You've had it almost a year now," Draco told him, "and it certainly doesn't show."

"Sorry?" Harry said, not sure what else to say. "And... er... yeah, good, I suppose. You?"

"Bored-"

"How can you possibly have been bored?" Hydrus asked, apparently shocked. "We've had four birthdays since yours, and two other social functions for no reason!" Draco's face went curiously blank, the way Harry had seen Snape's do on occasion. "Stop doing that!" Draco smirked, breaking his mask. Hydrus looked disconcerted. "Well?"

"They're a dull lot," Draco said. Now Hydrus smirked.

"You just don't like them because they don't like you."

"Well, yes," Draco said, blinking. "That's not unusual." Harry bit down on his tongue to keep from laughing, and Draco almost smiled at him.

"Is for a Hufflepuff," Hydrus muttered. Then he looked up, smiling rather nastily. He looked a lot like his father in that moment. And Draco, with his folded arms, and supremely unimpressed expression, looked a lot like his mother.

Harry wasn't sure if his robes had just been a better fit to start with, or if Madam Malkin had taken pity on him and instructed Harry's needles to work faster, but he was done before Hydrus. He hopped down and followed Madam Malkin over to the counter, where she wrapped his robes and used the measurements she'd taken earlier to find him two pairs of school trousers, three shirts, a jumper, and five pairs of socks, which also went in his bag. She also gave him an owl order form, which he could use to order a House scarf, once he was sorted.

He thanked her, gathered everything up and headed for the door.

"Bye, Potter," Draco called after him. "It was good to see you!" Harry had no doubt that he meant it.

"Bye, Draco," Harry called back, with a genuine smile and a wave, and then left the shop, smiling slightly to himself as he braced for the headache that always seemed to follow in the wake of dealing with Draco's polar personalities.

* * *

Dora curled into Remus' side and let out a happy sigh. Her hair flashed yellow, and then reverted back to the pale blue it always did when she was sleeping. Remus adjusted himself - trying not to wake her - and was just putting his head down when he heard a quiet pop.

He sat up, carefully extracting himself from his girlfriend's grip and reached for his wand. He heard a quiet thump, and then everything went silent again.

Remus frowned, thinking that perhaps it was Strix, his owl, or that he was imagining things, when he saw a shadow move at the end of the hall and heard the guest room door creak.

_Sirius?_ he wondered, and then dismissed that; Sirius would have turned on a light and made himself a cup of tea... he wasn't the type to go about unannounced. And Remus doubted it was Mad-Eye, either; he did, on occasion, sneak in to try to startle Dora, but he'd been in three nights ago, and he never bothered to check the guest room first because he knew where he was going...

Remus put a hand over Dora's mouth and shook her awake. Her eyes fluttered open and he pressed a finger to his lips. She nodded and glanced toward the hall, where the bathroom door had just creaked. She grabbed her wand and rolled out of the bed, her expression resigned. Obviously she thought it was Mad-Eye. There was a thump and she muttered something about the bedside table. Remus slipped out of the other side of the bed.

A shadow - or more precisely, a tall figure in a black cloak - moved in the doorway of their room just as Remus cast a non-verbal Stunner and Tonks sent a Full Body Bind.

"_Avada Kedavra_," it snarled in what was obviously a man's voice.

Remus threw himself out of the way as the green curse hit and burst a pillow. Dora gasped with the realisation that it wasn't Mad-Eye, but didn't hesitate and sent another hex - Remus didn't recognise it - but the attacker batted it away with a flick of his wand and Dora rolled out of the way of another Killing Curse. Remus' heart was in his throat as he watched her.

Two more of the deadly green spells were sent Remus' way in such quick succession that he didn't have a chance to retaliate and was forced to simply dodge.

"_Avada_-" the attacker began. Remus spun on the spot and Apparated to the other side of the room. The curse exploded on the wall.

Dora fired off a quick spell that hit their attacker. He stumbled back a step with a sound like a snarl and shot a gleaming rope at Remus. It tangled around his arms and bare chest and he hissed as it burned; the ropes were silver. Dora looked at him helplessly for a split second and then cast a Shield Charm to block another attack.

"_Finite Incantatum,_" she said as soon as the attacker was distracted. Her hair was a brilliant red and her eyes were dark and angry as she flicked her wand at Remus, who was biting down on his lip so hard he was sure he was about to lose a chunk of it. He'd never been in so much pain and _that_ was saying something. The ropes fell off him and he let out a little relieved sound and pressed a hand to a burn on his shoulder.

"_Avada Kedavra_," their attacker snapped, sounding irritated. Dora pulled Remus to the ground.

"Sorry!" she said as he hissed in pain.

He shook his head at her - noticing absently that she was bleeding from a cut on her forehead - flicked his wand at the cloaked figure who was unable to block the Wind Charm and staggered back. Remus ignored the pain and grabbed her arm and then the familiar squeeze of Apparition seized them both and Remus' ruined bedroom faded. They landed roughly on a hard surface and Dora immediately jumped to her feet, wand out.

"Where are we?" she asked, after she'd determined they hadn't been followed. She shrunk as she spoke, to ensure Remus' shirt covered more of her than it had previously.

"Padfoot's," he said. He pushed himself upright with considerable effort, but his legs were fine and standing wasn't a problem.

"Thank Merlin," she said. "You need a Healer." Remus watched her face, pale and worried in the dim light of the street lamp. Her hair was an odd purple – a mix of sad, scared navy, and furious red - and her eyes were a bright blue.

"_Expecto Patronum_," he muttered, trying to move his arm as little as possible. His wolf burst into existence. "We need help. Come downstairs," Remus muttered.

The door opened and Sirius stepped out looking half-asleep, dressed – like Remus – in only his pyjama bottoms. Dora sniggered, despite the situation.

"Are those paw prints?" she asked.

"I'll leave you out here if you're going to be mean," he grumbled, rubbing his eyes. "Moony?" He blinked and took in Remus' burns. "What the hell happened to you?" Then he grinned wickedly and glanced at Dora again. "And is that your shirt she's wearing?"

Remus flushed and made a rude hand gesture. It made his burns sting like hell, but it was worth it. Dora pretended to ignore her second cousin, but Remus didn't miss her hair turning pink, and he doubted Sirius had either. Sirius barked a laugh and stepped back to let them inside.

"Padfoot?" Harry's head, complete with bed hair and very tired eyes, was sticking out over the landing.

"Go back to bed, kiddo," Sirius called, yawning. Harry didn't, though. He, like Sirius was in pyjamas, but his were shorts with little deer on them – a birthday present from Kreacher – and a big white t-shirt.

Remus didn't know if he was too tired to ask, or if he was simply too used to seeing Remus dealing with painful injuries, but Harry just set about making tea – he borrowed Sirius' wand to speed the process up - while Sirius retrieved his healing kit from the pantry.

"Thanks," Dora said, accepting a cup from Harry.

"You're welcome," he said, flopping down in the seat next to her. "What happened to your head?"

"I hit it on the bedside table," she muttered.

"Oh, really?" Sirius asked, grinning widely at Remus. He summoned a cloth and dipped it in Dittany.

"Not like that," Remus snapped. Sirius sniggered. Dora flushed. Harry, thankfully, was too tired to have registered his godfather's comment. "Oww."

"Sorry," Sirius said, not looking sorry at all as he continued to dab at the burns.

"Sadistic prat," Remus muttered, glowering at Sirius. Harry grabbed another cloth and started to heal Dora's cut, and Remus felt a surge of affection for him.

"So," Sirius said cheerfully, "what brings you here at one in the morning?"

"Someone broke into my house and started flinging Killing Curses," Remus said. Harry paled. Sirius' dabbing stopped.

"Who?"

"A man. No idea who."

"Why?" Harry asked, wide-eyed.

"They wanted Remus," Dora said, her hair turning red again.

"You're sure?"

"Positive. They knew enough about him to use silver rope, aside from anything else."

"It was planned, then," Sirius murmured, dabbing Remus' other shoulder.

"They didn't know their way around the house," Remus said. "That's probably what saved us. I thought it was Mad-Eye, but then I realised it couldn't be-"

"Poorly planned, then," Sirius said. "You can't rely on that next time, though."

"Next time?"

"This was planned," Sirius said rolling his eyes. "Obviously someone wants you dead and since you're still alive, it's reasonable to conclude they'll come looking for you again."

"He's right," Dora said, not seeming to like the revelation at all. Remus didn't like it much either.

"Of course I am," Sirius said. Harry smiled, seeming too tired to laugh, but sobered quickly. "Kiddo, do you mind?"

"No," Harry said, accepting the Dittany-soaked cloth from Sirius. He'd helped with this sort of thing a few times before, but his dabs were still softer, and more timid than Sirius'. Remus appreciated that.

"Library," Sirius said, vanishing into the kitchen fireplace. He was back less than a minute later, seeming marginally more awake than before. He was dressed, at least, and also had a pair of jeans that he tossed at Dora. She put them on and then grew so that she filled them out.

"Stay here," Sirius told Remus, but glanced at Harry as if to make sure that Harry knew it applied to him too. Then he looked to Dora. "Are you coming?"

"Obviously," Dora said.

"Wait, wha-"

"Stay safe," she said, giving him a small smile. She kissed him, and then followed Sirius into the fireplace, wand drawn.

* * *

"Clear," Sirius whispered, catching Tonks as she stepped out of the fireplace. Sirius had already lit the lamps and once Tonks was steady, he released her and headed for the hallway, murmuring, "_Ostendere Me Omnia_," as he went.

She followed; her Sidekick was in there, in her rucksack, and so was a half-finished report than she didn't particularly want in just anyone's hands. They were safe, though. Her bag didn't even appear to have been touched, other than by a spell; the top pocket was a bit blackened. Sirius looked around the room, his eyes wide and unfocused, and then left.

"Green, black, navy and silver," he muttered, as she joined him in the main part of the cottage. "Why does that sound familiar...?"

He crouched down, staring intently at a patch of floorboard that seemed remarkably normal to Tonks. Sirius, though, rarely did anything without good reason, so she left him to it, and tried to find the intruder's entry point. She found it easily enough; a bowl had shattered on the kitchen floor, and Tonks knew that meant he'd come in through the window above the sink; she'd broken something in the exact same way nearly two years ago, when she'd broken in to borrow Remus' clothes so that she could impersonate him.

"Here," she said, growing her legs so that she could look outside. "Those plants look flat, and this bowl's broken."

"Geraniums," Sirius said, coming over for a look. "He told me off for standing on them, once." Somehow, Tonks wasn't surprised that Sirius had once trampled (because with Sirius, it was rarely as simple as standing) Remus' garden, and she certainly wasn't surprised that he'd been told off for doing so.

"Any traces?"

"A few," Sirius said, in a cautiously optimistic tone. He stepped away and back to the same patch of floor. "Nothing helpful yet, but if I just..." He trailed off, drawing strange shapes in the air with his wand.

"What are you doing?" Tonks asked in a hushed voice.

"I've been spending Tuesdays with trace readers," Sirius said after a pause; she'd begun to wonder if he'd even heard her. "Picked up a few tricks." Tonks didn't interrupt him again after that, just perched on the arm of Remus' couch and waited patiently. Finally, Sirius pushed himself to his feet and sighed. "Got it," he said, extending his hand to her. She took it, and he pulled her into the tight darkness of Apparition.

Tonks fell over upon arrival, and for once, Sirius didn't catch her; he'd already gone to examine something on a desk, on the other side of the room. She stood up, brushing dust off her borrowed jeans, and looked around.

They appeared to be in some sort of cottage. It looked a bit like she imagined the Shrieking Shack would, on the inside; the walls were made of crumbling plaster, covered in smears of dirt, mould and peeling wallpaper, and the beams that held the patchy roof up had almost been destroyed by rot. The floor was dusty – broken in places by footprints - and creaky, and what little carpet remained was stained and thin.

There was a desk and chair – over by Sirius – a kitchen, which seemed to have been cleaned recently, and there was, when Tonks checked, food in the cupboards. There was also a curtained off area which revealed a toilet – also clean – a showerhead above a patch of tiled floor, and a sink with a leaking tap. It couldn't be the Shrieking Shack, though; Tonks could see the Thames through the spotty window.

"_Homenum Revelio,_" she said, but Sirius was the only one to glow orange. Tonks left Sirius examining the desk and went to check the next room. In it, was a small, lumpy bed that had been slept in at some point, and recently, because it was unmade, but dust was yet to gather on the exposed sheets. There was a door off to one side that led to another, smaller room, and in there, Dora found a cauldron, an open book with instructions for some sort of potion-spell combination ritual, and a whole lot of stacked jars and phials of strange ingredients.

She picked up the book and scanned the pages. It was, by far, the most complicated thing she'd ever seen, and she was a good enough potioneer to brew Wolfsbane (that had been her birthday present to Remus, in fact). It was also dark magic, involving the _blood of the victim, _and_ blood of the Master_.

"Sirius," she said, and he appeared in the doorway almost instantly, wand up and ready.

"Are- what's this?"

"I don't know." Tonks offered him the book, and he accepted it gingerly. "I've never seen anything like it, but it's _Dark_."

Sirius seemed to have more idea about what the ritual did than Tonks had; gruesome as it was, she doubted he was paling because of the ingredient list.

"Green, black, navy and silver," he whispered. "Of course! Knockturn Alley- It's the same- _They're _the same!"

"What?" Tonks whispered.

"This place..." Sirius said. "I never came, the trace readers did, but their reports described an old, abandoned cottage on the outskirts of London. And this-" He held up the book. "-is instructions."

"I'd worked that out," Tonks said, rolling her eyes, but her heart wasn't really in it. She bit her lip. "Instructions for what?"

"For how to create an Inferius," Sirius said grimly. "It's similar to the Animagus stuff really; I could turn that cauldron into a dog, if I wanted to, using a variation of my old Animagus incantation, and I would be able to control it, the same way I control Padfoot, when I become him... But I could use that incantation on any old dog on the street, and it wouldn't work... I couldn't just force it do things with a thought-"

"That'd be the Imperius curse," Tonks said. Sirius nodded.

"But if it's dead, you've already got the body – so it's not _creating _it, like with the Animagus stuff – but there's no mind, like with a normal dog, or linked mind, like an Animagus. So you've got to... well, essentially make that link-" He held the book up again, grimacing. "-and implant it." He shivered. "This is _very_ dark magic." He folded the corner of the page the instructions were on, and then shrank the book and tucked it into a pocket in his robes. "This is how they got Krognug," he said, more to himself than her. "But how the hell is Remus the next step after Gringotts...?"

"This- they're the same person? The same person that broke into Gringotts today-" Or yesterday, she supposed. "-is the same one that attacked us tonight?" Sirius nodded. "But- why-"

"_No_ idea," Sirius said darkly. "And here I was thinking I couldn't possibly be any more motivated to catch this git... You should see this." His mouth set into a hard line. "And fair warning: you won't like it," he said, leading her back through to the room they'd arrived in. She followed him over to the desk, and then stopped. She felt her hair shrink into angry spikes, and her eyebrows morph into a very pointy, angular shape. There, on the desk, were pictures of Remus. Two were from articles regarding his upcoming position as the Defence teacher at Hogwarts; one was from _The_ _Quibbler_, and about how it was good that the wizarding community was finally starting to be more open-minded toward employees.

The other was from the _Prophet_, implying that Dumbledore was insane and Remus was a murderous beast. Tonks had sent the _Prophet_ a _very_ angry letter after that, and Sirius had also sent one, less angry, and far more impressively condescending and sarcastic than Tonks thought she'd ever be able to manage.

The desk also held a grainy photograph of Remus - who seemed to be telling Matt a joke - and a rough sketch of his cottage. Tonks stiffened and felt her skin tingle. She didn't need to look to know it was red, like her hair. Sirius took a step backward, and then shook his head, took two forward, and put his hand on her shoulder.

"Go home," he said.

"No, I-" She paused; he'd said 'go', not 'let's go'. "What about you? Aren't you com-" Sirius looked like he desperately did want to go home, but he shook his head.

"I'm not done here," he said grimly. "Someone's got to collect this-" He gestured at the papers on the desk. "-before anyone tries to hide it, and someone's got to try to trace our attacker past here."

"Are there traces?"

"Not magical ones," Sirius said.

"There's no point, then," Tonks said. "Come home, Sirius. This can wait until mor-"

"Not magical ones," Sirius repeated. "But I have other ways of tracking people." He tapped his nose, and it started to extend into a long, black snout before he changed it back again. "And they – whoever they are – went that way." He pointed to a door that led out into an overgrown garden. Tonks felt tired just thinking about it.

"I'll stay," she said. "You could use the help-"

"Help me by warning your parents," he said. "If they can't get to Remus, they'll try to get to you, and that's the first place they'll look. They've been forced to rethink after tonight's little attack failed, but who knows how long that'll set them back."

_Not long, _Tonks thought; this person, had broken into Gringotts, after all. A little failure like tonight's wouldn't deter them for long.

"Then," Sirius said tiredly, "tell Remus to go back to his cottage to pack; he can live at home-" By home, she knew he meant Number Twelve. "-until term starts. He practically lives there anyway, so we might as well make it official." He smiled, but seemed too troubled to keep the expression there for long. Tonks nodded slowly.

"You'll be all right on your own?" she asked. He was silent, toying with his Sidekick for a moment, and then looked up.

"Hemsley's awake," he said, "and probably already on his way to get Brown. I'll be fine."

Tonks stayed with him anyway, until Hemsley and Brown arrived – and answered their respective security questions – just to be sure. Then, she gave him one last look; a warning, that if he got hurt, she'd kill him herself. He nodded tiredly, and managed a small smile, and then she turned on the spot and the cottage melted away.


	5. A Place To Belong

"Ginny," Ron warned, as Ginny took a step into his room. She stomped her foot and came in anyway. "Ginny!"

"You're going tomorrow anyway," she said, and Ron noticed the waver in her voice. He turned away from her to throw a pair of socks into his battered trunk. Ron wasn't entirely sure how he _hadn't_ managed to get a new one, because Bill and Charlie had both taken theirs with them, and Percy and the twins were still using theirs, but Mum had pulled this old one out of somewhere, and so Ron had a second-hand trunk to put his second-hand things into. "It shouldn't matter if I'm in here at all!"

"I'm still here," Ron pointed out. "And that means the rules are sti-"

"I'm going to come and stand in here all the time when you're gone," Ginny told him.

"No," Ron said, "you're not."

"I am," Ginny said, throwing herself down on his bed.

"Get off!" Ron said, shoving her. Ginny shoved him back.

"I'm going to come in here and jump on your bed, and look at your things, and-"

"I won't write if you do that," he said. Ginny's bottom lip quivered, and her shoulders slumped. Ron felt instantly bad for upsetting her.

"You weren't supposed to say that," she said. Ron went to retrieve a book from his desk. It was _Hogwarts: A History_, and he didn't think he'd ever seen it before in his life. Still, Ron certainly hadn't read it, and it wasn't a book he'd had for years... so, he reasoned, it could only be a Hogwarts book. He tossed it into his trunk. "You were supposed to say you were going to stay home to make sure I didn't." She sniffled and Ron turned around in time to see her wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her tshirt. "Why can't I go this year?" Ginny asked piteously. "I could keep up," she said. Ron said nothing. "I could! There's not that much difference between ten and eleven! And Percy could help me if I needed it!"

"Perce'll be doing his O.W.L.s," Ron pointed out. "He won't have time for anything else." There was a pause as Ginny considered this, and then her lip trembled again.

"I'm going to have no one," she said.

"I'll write," Ron said at once. "I promise."

"It's not the same," she said, and Ron couldn't help but agree. He and Ginny had been all each other had – aside from their parents, and they didn't really count – for the past two years. She was his best friend, without a doubt, and, excited as he was to go to Hogwarts, he wished she could come with him. Harry would be there, but Ron didn't know anyone else, and he couldn't help but worry that no one would want to be his friend. Other than his brothers, Ginny, and occasionally someone like Luna or Harry, he hadn't had much to do with other kids. What if no one liked him? He wasn't smart, like Bill and Percy, wasn't funny like the twins, or popular like Charlie. Ron didn't really have anything to offer.

_Why couldn't we have been twins too_? he wondered, looking at Ginny... who was _still _in his room, and on his bed... but Ron couldn't bring himself to tell her to get out. He was leaving tomorrow, so it _was_ a special occasion, he supposed. He could be lenient this time.

"Ickle Ronniekins!"

Ginny's sad expression brightened at once, and Ron's musing was overtaken with the thought that if he wanted to get under his bed before the twins arrived, he had about five seconds left to do so.

_But Ginny would give me away..._ She was his best friend, but she was also his little sister, and Ron wasn't about to make the mistake of forgetting that. His door, which was already open, flew backward and hit the wall, causing the Cannons players on a nearby poster to zoom out of sight. Mum shouted something from downstairs, and Percy's irate voice added something into the silence that followed.

Ron grumbled as George invited himself into Ron's room, wondering if his favourite pair of socks had ended up in Ron's washing pile, and proceeded to rummage through his trunk to find them, undoing what little packing Ron had managed to get done. He rolled his eyes as Fred - never far from George – slouched in with bulges in his pockets that were very obviously dungbombs and casually dropped them into Ron's trunk when he thought no one was looking. Fred started to whisper to Ginny, who, in turn, started to snigger.

Ron gave up and slouched out, leaving the room-invaders he called siblings in his room and went in search of food; there was no way that he'd be able to get anything done with the others upstairs.

"Fred, I told- Oh, Ron, dear," Mum said, bustling past him with a last minute pile of washing. Ron spotted the socks George was looking for, and sighed. "All packed?"

"Uh, no," Ron said. "I thought I'd just grab something to eat, and-"

Through the open laundry door, Mum told him - in no uncertain terms - that he wouldn't be getting as much as a crumb until he'd finished packing, and shooed him back upstairs as soon as she re-emerged.

Ron stomped through the house, swearing under his breath, until Percy poked his head out of his room - with his Prefect badge and a polishing cloth in hand – and told him that he'd take House points if Ron carried on that way tomorrow. _Percy can't have his little brother embarrassing him_, Ron thought, rolling his eyes.

"Sorry, Percy," Ron muttered.

"That's quite all right," Percy said, putting his nose in the air.

"Yes, Ron, it's quite all right," Fred said pompously, coming up behind them. He stopped, eyes gleaming as they landed on Percy. Percy – as Ron would have done had he been the one Fred was looking at like _that_ – took a step back through the doorway of his room. "Are you polishing your Charms Club badge?" Percy pursed his lips.

"It's my Prefect badge," he replied stiffly.

"Oh, that's right," Fred said, as if he'd just remembered. He turned to Ron. "Did you know Percy's a Prefect this year?"

"He's mentioned it," Ron said wryly. Percy had mentioned it... just about every time he opened his mouth. Percy gave him a betrayed look. Ron shrugged in a vaguely apologetic way, but he wasn't very sorry.

"Second one in the family," Fred continued pompously, sticking his chest out the way Percy had when his school letter arrived a few weeks ago. "Bill left a rather large pair of shoes to fill, but they've got different styles, you see, and Bill was probably a bit too casual about the whole thing-" Ron snorted. "-while Perce will be taking a much more traditional approach to his leadership, and-"

Funny as it was to see Fred prancing around on the small landing outside Percy's room, Ron had heard Percy's plans for his Prefectship too many times to stay and watch; he started up the stairs again, passing George who was on the way down, no doubt to investigate the Fred and Percy situation.

"Your socks are downstairs," Ron told him, and George nodded absently, his eyes already fixed on Percy.

"And if he plays it right," Ron heard George say in a grand voice, "then Head Boy is a distinct possibility in the futu-"

"And there they go again," Ginny announced, as Ron re-entered his room. Downstairs, Fred and George were cackling, and still trying to imitate Percy's lofty voice, and Percy was shouting at them. "I'm glad they're going with you."

"No, you're not," Ron said. Ginny poked her tongue out at him. "But I am," he said quietly.

* * *

Blaise sat alone, in a too-big-chair at a too-big-table in a too-big-dining-room in a too-big-and-too-expensive-house. He had bolognaise that he'd cooked himself – which had horrified Dolly the house elf, but Blaise didn't care – and water – because Giovanna didn't believe in juice, or flavoured milk – and he was about as happy as he could be, given the circumstances.

Tomorrow, he was getting out. Not home, to his father, where he _wanted _to be, but he would, at least, be away from Giovanna and Dolly. And that, in Blaise's opinion, was the next best thing.

Blaise wasn't sure what to expect of Hogwarts. He'd always liked school, and learning, so he expected that side of it would be okay, but wizards and witches were, in his opinion, the most bigoted, spoiled, self-centred lot he'd ever met. Blaise Zabini, of course, was one of them. Blaise had always been good at handling people, good at reading them so that he knew how to act to blend in, and good at playing the roles he needed to play.

The role Giovanna had given him was snotty heir, set to be Sorted into Slytherin, or less preferably, Ravenclaw. The other two Houses weren't even up for consideration, so Blaise hadn't given them much thought. He wasn't sure which of his two potential Houses he was most likely to end up in; he'd always enjoyed study, and that was the only Ravenclaw trait anyone ever spoke about, but Slytherin... Slytherin, apparently, was all about cunning and ambition – or that was what everyone said – and Blaise rather thought he had both of those covered as well.

Blaise didn't particularly want to be Minister for Magic, or own the largest vault at Gringotts, but he did have a goal, and that was protecting himself, and in doing so, protecting Dad. There was very little he wouldn't do to achieve that, and every action he'd taken since he was introduced to Giovanna had been to further that protection.

He didn't rate any of the other kids he'd met as overly intelligent – they were too self-centred to have any real perspective – but he thought it required a reasonably good bluff on his part to make them believe that he really was Blaise Zabini, and not Blaise Benson. Draco Malfoy had been with that lot for years, and even he wasn't able to fit in as seamlessly as Blaise had. That, Blaise thought, took skill, and he wasn't too modest to admit it.

He liked to think he was a bit better than the little prats at the dinner parties Giovanna took him to. They were that way because they'd been taught from birth to behave a certain way, and never had the courage or curiosity to question it. _He_ was playing along so that he'd get to write a letter to his dad once a month, and because Giovanna had made it clear that any missteps on his part would have dire consequences for his dad. He'd taken her seriously; the first time he'd met her, she'd put a wand to Dad's throat, for crying out loud, and in the months since, he'd learned about her previous husbands, and where exactly the money that funded her enormous house and expensive tastes had come from.

He'd asked her, once, about three weeks in, why she hadn't killed Dad like the rest of them. She'd told him that muggle teachers – which is what Dad had been back when he met Giovanna – didn't make much money, and what little they did make was smaller again once it was converted to galleons... that, apparently, was what had deterred her initially, and once she'd found out she was pregnant with Blaise, she'd been forced to keep him alive out of convenience. It went without saying that – now that Blaise was off to Hogwarts - Dad was not as useful as he had been for the past eleven years, and so Blaise was being very careful to do what he was told.

He was blending in, lying, and wearing the same bored, haughty expression that everyone else in the magical world seemed to wear. And he was careful to never, ever, to reveal anything about his life that hadn't happened in the past three months.

He twirled his fork – which was probably worth more than every piece of cutlery he and Dad owned at home – in his dinner and then stuffed it in his mouth. He smiled a little sadly – Dad's bolognaise recipe always made him think of home – and wondered what Dad was up to now.

_Probably getting ready for the new term to start, _Blaise thought, sighing. He wondered if Dad was coping. He tended to get caught up in his work at the beginnings and ends of term, and Blaise usually helped out a bit more around the house during those times; he'd put through the occasional load of washing, or help make dinner, and he'd also help Dad relax by having some fun time, watching telly, or kicking the football around the back garden.

The first thing Blaise was going to do when he got to school, was get a moment alone so that he could write a letter to Dad. Giovanna had a lot of connections – he'd seen lots of them at the manor in the first month, and in the second and third months, once she was back at work, he'd heard a lot of discussions about cases, and co-workers, and clients between Dolly and Giovanna – but even she couldn't have so many that she'd be able to stop the school's post.

Blaise had another bite of his dinner, and glanced over as the kitchen door opened and Dolly stepped out, holding a plate of chicken and pumpkin something for Giovanna in her bony hands. She gave Blaise's plate a disapproving look as she went past, and didn't offer her usual 'Master Zabini'.

They watched each other, until Dolly disappeared through another door, leaving Blaise alone again. He listened carefully, for the faint grind of the fork on the plate Dolly was holding so that he had a rough idea of where in the house she was. Blaise missed the everyday sounds of the television, or the washing machine, or the telephone, but he couldn't deny that the complete and utter silence of Giovanna's house had its advantages; it made it easier to avoid the other occupants, unless, of course, Dolly did her Apparition thing.

Blaise had another mouthful of his dinner, and then stirred in a few stray bits of parmesan. He then lifted his glass of water in a toast to the empty chairs around him.

"To Blaise Benson," he said. "May he rest in peace until Christmas."

* * *

"All packed, sweetheart?" Mum asked, coming to lean against the doorway.

"Almost," Hermione said nervously. "I thought I'd keep these two-" She gestured to _A Standard Book of Spells_ and _Hogwarts: A History_, which were lying on the mattress beside her. "-with me, so I can read them on the train." She'd talk to people first – Harry, or Blaise, or anyone else she met on the train – but there was only so much that could be talked about, and she was sure that, by about halfway, they'd have run out of conversational topics. Harry would probably want to play Exploding Snap, which Hermione'd always been bad at, and so while he did that, she'd be able to retreat into her books.

Mum watched her for a few seconds, and then stepped into the room, looking around at the bare shelves, the empty wardrobe and the almost-overflowing trunk on the floor. A photograph of Hermione and her parents – taken recently, on their trip to America – lay on the very top, and Mum smiled sadly at it before turning back to Hermione.

"Are you sure about this, Hermione?" Hermione nodded. "It's not too late to go to a nice, local scho-"

"Mum, I'm going," Hermione said, not sure whether her mother's concern came from the fact that she was moving out, at age eleven – almost twelve - or whether it was because she was moving out to study magic. "This is a fantastic opportunity, and I can't pass it up. I'll learn all sort of new things-" Hermione didn't miss the way Mum's eyes flicked to the wand that lay beside the books on her bed. "-and make new friends-"

"You could make friends here," Mum said gently.

"No one here ever wanted to be my friend."

"You met Harry, and Bla-"

"And they're both wizards," Hermione pointed out. "They're different too." Mum watched her sadly. Hermione wondered whether it was the use of the word 'different' or something else. "I'm going to Hogwarts, Mum," she said earnestly. "I'm a witch, and that's where I belong."

"I know," Mum said, tearing up a bit. "I know, I know... just... if you don't like it – if it's too much, or if you change your mind - promise you'll come home. Okay?"

"Okay," Hermione said, crossing her fingers behind her back.

She had Harry, and Blaise, but otherwise it would be just like every other time she'd moved school. She'd be starting at the bottom again, knowing hardly anyone, and this time, she wouldn't even be able to go home at the end of the day, because her school was going to be her home... for seven whole years. If she didn't like it, she'd be stuck, because, regardless of what she'd said to Mum, she wasn't just going to give up and leave.

She was going to find a place for herself – she didn't care where, just _somewhere_ – in the magical world, the way she'd never managed to do in the muggle one. She was a witch, and so Hogwarts was where she belonged... and she just had to keep telling herself that until she believed it.

* * *

"-and unless you want to lose it, you'll do no such thing," Mother said. Draco'd already reconciled himself with the idea of leaving his broomstick behind, and, while he didn't like it, he certainly wasn't as devastated as Hydrus seemed to be.

"Father," Hydrus whined. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Narcissa," Father began, looking at Mother, "surely-"

"No," Mother said, buttering a slice of bread. She hadn't even looked up. She'd been odd for the last few days; she'd been avoiding the rest of the family, had snapped at Dobby twice, had been talking to herself, and on Mother's birthday the day before, she hadn't gone to see Aunt Bella, which she _always_ did... Draco hadn't thought it was possible, but he'd spent enough time watching people that he knew Mother was feeling nervous, or guilty... or maybe both. Draco had worked out that she was going to miss them, when they left for Hogwarts tomorrow.

He was sure Father had noticed, but Father's method of dealing with Mother when she was in a mood, tended to be to give her space. Hydrus was so caught up in the injustice of not being able to take his broomstick that he probably hadn't even noticed, and so it fell to Draco to do something about it.

He had his chance, after dinner. Father and Hydrus went flying, and Mother retreated up to the library to hide behind _History Of The Houses_. He knocked on the doorframe, not wanting to startle her too much – she'd been distant, lately, too – and she twitched and looked up. Her forehead creased when she saw that it was Draco.

"Mother," he said, "can I come in?"

"Of course," she said, and then buried her head in her book again. Draco came in and sat down on the armchair closest to hers, and he knew she wasn't as oblivious as she seemed; he noticed her shoulders had stiffened, and her fingers tightened around the cover of the book she was holding.

"It'll be all right," he said.

"Pardon?" Mother asked, stiffening again. Draco glanced out the library window, and could still see Father and Hydrus soaring around the grounds, so he stood. He hesitated for the briefest moment – Mother hadn't hugged him for a long time – and then wrapped his arms around her shoulders. She made a small sound, and then pulled him into her lap and tightened her hold on him. "Oh, Draco," she whispered, and he felt her tremble, and then heard a soft sniff.

"Mother?" he asked, uncertain. He'd seen her cry before – once – but not for a long time; it was something Mother just didn't do.

"You'll take care of yourself, won't you?" Draco gave the top of her head – her face was pressed against his shoulder – an odd look.

"Obviously," he drawled, and then patted Mother's shoulder carefully. "Mother, you don't need to worry about me, or about Hydrus. We've been preparing for Hogwarts forever." It was true; they'd been surrounded by their future House-group since birth, and Mother had taught them the spells and theories that they would need to settle into lessons. Mother, though, sobbed when Draco said 'preparing'. "We'll write, I promise. Or I will, and I'll remind Hydrus if he doesn't, but we'll have all of our classes together, so it won't matter if he doesn't, because we'll have all the same news."

Mother choked.

"Or we can sit down in the common room and write one together," Draco said quickly, not sure why she was still upset. "It'll all be fine, Mother, I promise."

Mother was silent for several long seconds, and Draco could almost feel her gathering resolve.

"Yes," Mother said. Her voice was very subdued but it didn't shake, and when she lifted her head, only a single tear remained. "Yes, you're right." The tear slid down her pale cheek, and Mother wiped its track away with her sleeve. She shifted, and Draco stood up, so that Mother could get to her feet. She clasped her hands in front of her, nodded, smiled, and said, "It'll all be fine."

Then she picked up her book and swept out, leaving Draco standing warily in the middle of the library:

_Lie, _his head told him.

* * *

Harry woke up to Padfoot's freezing nose in his ear, and hot, doggy breath in his face. He laughed, pulled Padfoot out of the way by his collar so that he could sit up, and then batted his godfather away with his pillow.

Padfoot just caught the end of it – gently - between his sharp teeth, and gave Harry a silly, tongue-lolling grin. Harry gave up on trying to wrest it away, and pushing him – and the pillow – off the bed.

Padfoot bounced back up almost instantly, and Harry just _knew_ he was going to lose the scuffle that would come next, so he did the only thing he could do.

"Is Moony awake yet?" Padfoot paused mid-bound, and his ears perked up. Harry put on his glasses, grabbed his wand, and with a grin, hopped out of bed.

Padfoot made an impatient noise, and Harry laughed again and ran after him.

After such an eventful morning, it was hard to imagine breakfast being anything but subdued by comparison, but it wasn't; Kreacher had outdone himself and cooked all of Harry's favourite things - even things like treacle tart, which wasn't a breakfast food - and Moony and Padfoot were in good spirits, reminiscing about their own Hogwarts days, and getting louder and louder as they tried to talk over each other to remind Harry about a place or painting that he had to visit as soon as he got the chance.

"The forbidden forest's always fun," Padfoot said. "But I wouldn't recommend it until you've managed to transform, or you're likely to get lost, or attacked by something." Harry arched an eyebrow and glanced between them.

"Or both," Moony said, and his mouth twitched and then spread up into rueful smile. "Remember that game we-?"

"Yes; poor Hagrid," was Moony's way of acknowledging that he did. He turned to Harry who was waiting patiently for an explanation. "Back in school," Moony explained, "we used to spend our frees messing around in the forest."

"Hide and seek," Padfoot supplied, "Prongs and I would wrestle and Pe-" He cleared his throat loudly. "-Moony would bet on who would win."

"The forest was – and still is, I imagine - out of bounds, though; the centaurs aren't always friendly and there are all sorts of other creatures living in there."

"Remember the spider?" Padfoot asked wistfully. Moony nodded, and Padfoot turned to Harry. "It was about as big as a cat and it tried to eat Wormtail one full moon."

"But Hagrid," Moony said, getting back onto topic, "once he worked out where we were going in our spare time, tried to stop us when he could."

"Used to sit out in front of his hut and shout at us if we got too close to the trees," Padfoot supplied. "And if we went in, he had to come and get us, and take us back to the school – part of his gamekeeperly duties, obviously..."

"Sirius and James-"

"And you," Padfoot added. Moony hesitated and then sighed and then grinned, apparently unable to help himself.

"The three of us, then, thought it was a fantastic game. There was a big old tree, and we used to race – see who could get there before Hagrid caught us and carried us – literally – back to the school." Harry - who'd met Hagrid a few times now - was well able to picture him with a Marauder or two draped over each shoulder, and laughed.

"You should show him the tree..." Padfoot said excitedly. "See if we can get the second generation playing-"

"I'm already putting Dumbledore in a tricky position by being what I am," Moony said, biting his lip. "I'm not sure that I should be encouraging-"

"If Dumbledore wanted a well behaved teacher, he wouldn't have hired a Marauder," Padfoot said, with conviction. Harry sniggered. Moony opened his mouth, closed it, and then shook his head.

"No," he agreed wryly, "probably not."


	6. Aboard The Hogwarts Express

"You're joking, right?" Harry asked.

"No," Moony said.

"Definitely not," Padfoot added, looking uncannily serious.

"Walk through it?" Harry repeated. A muggle woman stopped and looked at Hedwig, who was clicking her beak impatiently from inside the cage atop Harry's trunk on the trolley. Tonks turned and stared at her with the same amount of interest, until the woman readjusted her handbag and hurried away. Tonks turned back around, smiling so widely that her eight-year old face was threatening to split.

It was Moony's first time outside Grimmauld – except for when he'd gone to his cottage for the full moon, or to the Tonkses, or to Matt's for lunch – since the attack at the end of July, and while Padfoot - who'd made no effort to disguise himself – would be keeping an eye on things, Tonks was there as a second round of protection, just in case.

"Or run," Padfoot said, shrugging. "Either works." Harry gave him a doubtful look. If Padfoot had told him to run through a seemingly solid wall the day he'd taken him from Privet Drive, he might have believed him... With wizards being wizards, Harry wouldn't be entirely surprised if it _was_ necessary to run through the wall to get to the platform. But Harry also wouldn't be surprised if this was Padfoot's idea of a joke; Padfoot would never do anything to actually hurt Harry, but he'd probably find it funny to convince him to run into a wall.

"-packed with muggles of course-"

Harry and the others spun to see another family, a very obviously wizarding family; they were fully equipped with their Hogwarts trunks, and the tallest boy even had an owl. They were also rather familiar.

Ginny was the first to spot Harry, and, as Mrs Weasley began to say something about the platform number, she wrenched free of her mother's grip, and nudged Ron. The pair of them grinned and waved, and the others – Harry recognised the twins he'd heard a fair bit about, and an older boy that was either Bill or Percy (Charlie was a friend of Tonks', who worked with dragons) – followed them over a bit more slowly.

"Hi, Mr Black," Ron said, giving Padfoot a shy wave, while Tonks changed her nose (subtly, because they were still surrounded by muggles), prompting Ginny to squeal and hug her. "Hi, Mr Lupin."

"Professor Lupin this year," Harry said, grinning. Ron's answering grin spread across his face at once.

"Brilliant!" he said excitedly. "Are you the new Defence teacher? Fred said the last one quit at the end of the year-"

"Fred's right," Moony said. One of the twins – probably Fred – looked up. The other one – from memory it was Greg, or George, or something similar - was bickering with the older brother, and Mrs Weasley was watching Moony and Padfoot awkwardly, as if she wasn't sure whether to say hello or not. Harry wasn't sure that they'd met before. She smiled kindly at Harry when she saw him looking, though, and he smiled back.

"Excited to be off?" she asked, and he grinned and nodded, but his eyes flicked to Padfoot, and his smile withered slightly. It was hard to imagine not seeing him every day, not hearing his voice, or his bark...

_I'm really going to miss him, _Harry thought, and not for the first time. Padfoot checked his Sidekick and gave Harry a questioning look. Harry shook his head and Padfoot watched him for a moment longer and then addressed the others.

"Shall we head through?"

"How do we get there?" Harry asked Ginny in an undertone; she was standing the closest, because Ron had moved behind Tonks – though he towered over her when she was in this particular form – to get out of Mrs Weasley's line of sight so that he could make a rude hand gesture at the twins. The oldest brother looked torn between disapproval and delight.

"Through that wall," she said, pointing.

"I thought Padfoot was joking," he said, and Ginny laughed at Padfoot's injured expression.

Mrs Weasley managed to get her lot through the barrier – Harry hung back with Padfoot, partially to keep from getting underfoot, and partially to be sure that Ginny wasn't having him on as well – and then they followed; Padfoot first, then Harry, and then Moony and Tonks at the rear.

"Wow," Harry said, before he could help himself. Even partially obscured by steam, the gleaming, crimson Hogwarts Express was a sight to behold. And the people gathered... Harry didn't think he'd seen so many since Padfoot's trial the year before. The noise – voices (some excited, some tearful), owls hooting, cats mewling – was overwhelming. Hedwig ruffled her feathers, and Harry took a step closer to his godfather, who put a hand on his shoulder. No one, thankfully, seemed to have noticed them, or rather, who they were.

"Gran, I've lost my toad again," Harry heard a round-faced boy say, as he followed Padfoot through the crowd. The Weasleys went their own way, but Harry was sure they'd find each other again later, once the train was moving, and Moony and Tonks had disappeared somewhere in the masses as well.

"They'll catch up," Padfoot said, reassuringly. "Come on; let's find you somewhere to sit. The back's best, I reckon; the Heads don't go down that end as much." Harry laughed, and relinquished his trolley to Padfoot – who had better luck steering it through the crowd than Harry did. Harry kept a hand on the trolley though, so they wouldn't be separated.

Harry spotted a few familiar faces; Amelia Bones with a red-haired girl – the girl hid behind her when she saw them, but Bones nodded in their direction – and the Malfoy family, with a whole group of others. From the distance he was at, Harry couldn't even tell Hydrus and Draco apart, though he suspected Draco was the one sticking closest to Mrs Malfoy. He lost them in the masses a moment later.

"Padfoot!" Harry recognised Moony's voice over the din, and spotted Tonks, who was taller than Moony at the moment – but still, oddly, had a girlish facial features – with pink hair, like a beacon. "Do you remember it being this bad?" he asked, and Padfoot shook his head.

"I-" Padfoot's eyes widened and he forced Harry's head down, and flicked a leg out to trip Moony up. Moony landed with a thump, and Tonks was dragged down with him. Harry looked up in time to see an indigo spell explode harmlessly on the side of the train. Padfoot was gone from Harry's side a second later, and Tonks was back to her usual shape and size, ushering Harry toward Moony. Both of them had their wands out, and once Tonks seemed certain that no one else was aiming for them, she stalked after Padfoot.

Padfoot had cornered their would-be-attacker, who was standing with his son – a wide-eyed boy that Harry suspected was about his age. The boy looked surprised, and a bit embarrassed, but the man looked unrepentant; he'd crossed his arms, and was looking at Moony with very obvious distaste.

"Bloody werewolf!" Harry heard him say, and then missed part of the conversation, but heard the man's voice again, saying, "-not teaching _my _son-"

He and Padfoot exchanged a few more words – Padfoot said something in a low voice than made the man straighten (he was still shorter than Padfoot by a fair bit) and then look uncomfortable – and then Padfoot turned and headed back to them, stopping only to get a hold of Tonks; she looked like she might explode, with her red hair, pink face and orange eyes.

Padfoot didn't say anything about it when he came back to them, but his jaw was set and Harry could tell he was _not _impressed. Moony was very quiet – if Harry'd been able to hear the werewolf comment, then Padfoot certainly had – and didn't pay much attention to Tonks as she stroked the side of his face, and murmured something Harry didn't catch.

"What about that one?" Harry asked, pointing to an empty compartment. Padfoot helped him over to it, and the pair of them – with Moony hovering behind, in case Harry couldn't manage his end – lifted the trunk into the overhead storage rack. Harry tucked Hedwig's cage into a corner, spent a moment scanning the crowd out the window for Hermione's bushy head, Ron's red one, or Draco's pale one, and then turned around.

"You're not staying?" Harry asked, when he noticed Moony hadn't put his own trunk down. Moony looked surprised, and then smiled, and shared a look with Padfoot. Tonks was out in the corridor, with her normal – or at least, a face she used regularly – talking to the Head Boy (or that's what his badge said, anyway). Harry didn't miss the eye that had grown out of the back of her neck though, and was fixed on Moony.

"I might drop by later on," Moony said. "I thought I'd go and meet the Prefects and Heads, and the driver for now." He glanced at Padfoot. "You'll be all right?"

"Aren't I supposed to ask you that?" Padfoot sighed. "Dora." She nodded and followed Moony out. "Be careful!"

"You worry too much!" Moony called back.

"I-" Padfoot began, probably about to point out that Moony had just been attacked, but the sound of Dora hitting Moony, and a muffled 'Ow!' drifted through the open door. "Git," Padfoot said fondly. "So, how are you feeling?"

"I'm all right," Harry said.

"You'll be fine," Padfoot assured him, and Harry believed him; he had two years in the wizarding world, had heard more stories about Hogwarts than he could remember, and he'd had his wand for a few years now, which meant he knew about as much as anyone else – and definitely more than some – did. The rest, he could learn with everyone else.

He was nervous, but not worried, about the Sorting; he'd ruled out Ravenclaw, because he didn't think that was him, but he thought any of the other three were possibilities. He _wanted_ Gryffindor, like his parents, and like Padfoot and Moony, but Tonks had been a Hufflepuff and loved it, and Slytherin wasn't _all _bad, though Harry didn't particularly want to share a dormitory with Hydrus Malfoy.

"You, er-" Padfoot ran a hand through his hair, looking awkward. "-you know that wherever you end up, kiddo, is fine with me, right?"

"I know," Harry said, and did. Padfoot made it no secret that he didn't particularly like the Slytherins _he'd_ gone to school with – in fairness, most of them had been Death Eaters – but he'd also made it equally clear that some very talented witches and wizards came out of that House; Andromeda, for one, Regulus, Padfoot's Auror partner Hemsley, and even Snape. And Harry only had to look at the way Padfoot treated Dora to know he had no problem with Hufflepuffs either.

"Good," Padfoot said gruffly. So quickly that Harry barely had time to register what was happening, Padfoot pulled him into a tight hug. "I'm going to miss you."

"I'll miss you too," Harry said, his voice muffled by Padfoot's tshirt. His dogtags clinked against Harry's glasses.

"You remembered your mirror?"

"In my rucksack," Harry said. Padfoot's only response was to squeeze him tighter.

"You'll have fun," Padfoot said, and Harry could hear the smile in his voice. "Don't give Moony _too_ hard a time in lessons... but that said, if you ever need help planning anything, then I'm only an owl or a mirror call away." Harry laughed, and Padfoot let him go, but kept ahold of his shoulders. "Enjoy it," he said, and then sobered up a bit. "Just-" He hesitated. "-just keep your wits about you, all right?"

"Yeah, sure," Harry said.

"With everything that's going on, with Gringotts, and Moony, and-"

"I'll be careful," Harry said. "I promise." Padfoot smiled and hugged him again. A shrill whistle blew, and Padfoot let go. "That's my cue," he said, and Harry, suddenly, didn't want him to go. "Can't dogs be pets at Hogwarts?" he asked, without much hope.

Padfoot laughed and said, "Not yet, but if I write enough letters to Dumbledore, I'm sure he'll give in eventually." He glanced at the door. "I've got to go, kiddo, or I'll be jumping off a moving train, and _that's _never fun-"

"When have you ever-" Harry began, but Padfoot was gone. Harry crossed to the window, waiting for him to reappear.

Another whistle sounded, and the Weasley family moved closer to the train. Ginny was clinging to Ron's hand as if her life depended on it, but was forced to let go when Mrs Weasley started shooing her sons onto the train. The three of them jumped aboard, and beside Mrs Weasley, Ginny began to cry.

"Don't, Ginny, we'll send you loads of owls," Harry heard Ron promise.

"We'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat," one of the twins said.

"George!" Ginny, apparently unable to help herself, burst out laughing, and Ron sniggered. A familiar bark-like laugh sounded out and Harry spied Padfoot, who'd found Tonks, squeezing through the crowd to get to the front.

"Only joking, Mum," one of the twins said. Mrs Weasley pursed her lips, and the train jolted forward.

"Have fun!" Tonks shouted, waving. Her hair flashed through the colours of the four Houses, making Harry grin, and others on the platform turn and point.

"Eat your vegetables!" Padfoot called, walking alongside the train. Ginny was running just in front of him, laughing and crying, and waving at her brothers. "Don't start anything with Hufflepuffs or Slytherins without your friends – they hunt in packs!" Harry just laughed. "Say hi to Peeves, and old McGonagall, and tell Snape I want my bloody book back!" Padfoot was jogging now. "And cause trouble, but _don't get caught_!"

The train was gathering speed quickly, and Padfoot dropped into his dog-form so that he could keep up. Harry could hear him barking, right up until the train rounded the bend, and the platform disappeared from sight. 

* * *

Ron found him almost straight away.

He dragged a battered trunk to the door, knocked once on the frame and then, when Harry glanced over, asked, "Do you mind if I-"

"Go for it," Harry said, and Ron smiled, seeming relieved. He dragged his trunk in. "Want a hand with that?" Lifting a heavy trunk wasn't nearly as easy with Ron as it had been with Padfoot; one of the latches gave way, and a jumper fell out, startling Ron, who dropped the trunk, which landed on Harry's foot. His eyes watered, and a few of the more colourful words he'd learned from Padfoot slipped out. Hedwig hooted disapprovingly.

"Looks like you two will get along well, then." The twins had followed Ron, and were now leaning in the doorway, watching the scene before them with amusement.

"Both share a love of swear words," the other twin added.

"I learned mine _from_ you two!" Ron protested.

"Ah, and what a student you were." The twins exchanged fond looks, and then turned to Harry, who was trying to get his foot out from under Ron's trunk.

"Need a lift?" one asked. Together, they managed to fix the broken latch and get the trunk onto the luggage rack. Then, the twins offered their hands to Harry.

"We didn't meet properly before," one said. "George Weasley."

"Fred," Fred added, once Harry'd shaken George's hand. Then, the pair of them turned to Ron. "Lee's got a giant tarantula-"

"-might even be a tiny Acromantula," George added excitedly.

"-down the middle somewhere. So we're headed that way."

"You could come," George offered, with a sly grin.

"No, thanks." Ron looked faintly ill.

"Harry?" Harry glanced at Ron, and shook his head. Ron looked grateful. "Your loss."

"See you later!" The twins left, shutting the compartment door behind them, and Harry could hear them cackling as they ran down the corridor outside. He grinned.

"Not interested?" Harry asked curiously.

"I hate spiders," Ron muttered. He didn't seem to want to explain why, so Harry didn't press the matter. Instead, he positioned himself so that he'd be able to see anyone that passed their compartment – namely Moony, Hermione, Draco or Blaise – and turned the conversation to Quidditch, which kept them both entertained until the train was well and truly out of London, and into the countryside.

Around twelve-thirty, just as Harry was just about to ask Ron whether he wanted to come for a walk to try to find anyone else, their door slid open to admit a woman with dimpled cheeks and a huge smile.

"Anything off the trolley, dears?" Harry'd had an enormous breakfast, and had food in his rucksack that Kreacher'd packed for him, but he figured there was always room for sweets. Ron's ear reddened and he muttered something about lunch from home, and so Harry was the only one of the pair of them, to get up and follow the lady out into the corridor.

He bought Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans immediately (he had Dumbledore to thank for that particular fondness), as well as chocolate frogs and liquorice wands. He also bought pumpkin pasties because, while he didn't particularly feel like them, he knew it was entirely likely that Moony would come by and catch him eating nothing but sweets for lunch, and he'd report to Padfoot. Ron, in the meantime, had extracted a set of sandwiches and was picking at them with a resigned expression.

"Corned beef," he sighed. Harry, who'd had lunch with Ron several times before, knew of Ron's dislike for corned beef, and of Mrs Weasley's tendency to forget that and pack it for him anyway.

"Have a few of these," Harry said, tossing the pasties at him. "Just make sure you leave the package, so I can show it to Moony if he comes by." Ron protested, but Harry wouldn't hear of it, and eventually, Ron was persuaded to eat. Harry opened a box of beans, and dug around in his rucksack for his old set of Exploding Snap cards.

He and Ron had a great time playing the tower game – where one player adds a card to the tower until it explodes and the loser has to pick and eat a bean – while they ate the other sweets. Shortly after a visit from a boy who'd lost a toad and was looking for it, Ron, got a cheese flavoured bean, which lured his pet rat out of his pocket.

Harry froze at the sight of it; he didn't really like rats after everything that had happened, and this one was even missing a finger where Wormtail was. Though he knew full well that Wormtail was in Azkaban – and would remain there for the rest of his life – it still put Harry on edge enough for him to need to check.

_Ostendere me omnia,_ he thought, and blinked to adjust as magic flooded his eyes. The train, like Diagon Alley, Hogwarts, and even Hogsmeade, was so coated in magic that it was painful to look at for long. Ron's magic was gold, with smudges of green, and had a thin, spiky texture, a bit like wire. And his rat – Scabbers – was a dark blob, completely devoid of magic. Harry let the sight fall away, and relaxed.

"I think this is the liveliest I've ever seen him," Ron said, making Scabbers run up and down the seat, after the cheese flavoured bean. Harry noticed Hedwig watching the rat's progress with deadly interest. "Mostly he just sleeps." Harry nodded, chuckling when Scabbers lunged for the bean and managed to pry it out of Ron's grip. He then retreated to the windowsill to eat it. "I tried to turn him yellow yesterday," Ron said. "Everyone's got cool things, like owls-" He nodded in Hedwig's direction. "-and cats, and I've got stupid Scabbers, so I thought if he was colourful, that-."

"You tried to turn him yellow?" Harry asked, grinning. "With a potion, or-"

"Nah, a spell," Ron said. He pulled out his wand – like the rest of Ron's things, it was quite well-worn. His wand was chipped, and had cracked at the end; Harry could see the unicorn hair glinting at the tip. Ron saw him looking at it, and his ears turned pink.

There was a scream from outside. Ron twitched and dropped his wand, which rolled under Harry's seat. Harry jumped to his feet, not quite sure what he was doing – but Padfoot's voice was in his ear saying he should keep his wits about him – and when he looked down, his wand was in his hand. The scream was followed by laughter and a girl saying, "Hydrus!"

Harry rolled his eyes, pocketed his wand, gave Ron a sheepish grin and bent to look for Ron's wand. There were some interesting things under the seat, Harry realised; a Montrose Magpies badge, half a _Daily Prophet_ article on wart removal, a shoelace, a wad of gum and, finally, behind a faded copy of _Witch Weekly_, was Ron's wand. As he reached for it, Harry heard the compartment door slide open.

"Has anyone seen a toad?" asked a bossy and extremely familiar voice.

"Hermione?!" Harry jumped up to turn around and smacked his head on his seat. "Ow! Bloody-"

"Harry?" Hermione's voice asked, sounding surprised and delighted. "I was looking for you earlier! What are you doing under there?"

"Getting Ron's wand," Harry said, emerging. He passed the wand back to its confused owner. "Oh, sorry. Hermione, this is Ron Weasley, Ron, this is-"

"Hermione Granger," Hermione said promptly. She waved the toadless boy into the compartment. "This is Neville Longbottom." Neville waved at them, but didn't make eye contact. He did, however, look at Harry, and then glance at Harry's forehead.

"Pleasure," Ron said, looking a bit overwhelmed as Hermione dragged Neville over to a seat and then sat down herself.

"You found the platform, obviously," Harry said; he and Padfoot had offered to meet up and help the Grangers through, but they'd wanted to do it alone the first time, and say a proper goodbye to Hermione.

"Yes, there was a bit of fuss when we got to the wall, but we managed," she said.

"I thought Padfoot was joking," Harry said.

"We got our instructions from Professor McGonagall, and I don't think she's the joking type," Hermione said. "I could have told you that, if you'd asked, or you could have just read the chapter on Platform Nine and Three Quarters and the Hogwarts Express in_Hogwarts: A History_, or in _The Extended History Of Wizarding Transport-_"

"Sounds fun," Ron muttered, and Harry laughed. Hermione gave them both dirty looks, and then glanced over at Neville, as if expecting him to have laughed too; Neville, though, was sitting quietly, with his hands folded in his lap.

"-which are both definitely worth looking at," Hermione finished. She looked around at the three of them. "Oh, isn't this exciting! Hogwarts is one of the best magical education institutions, and we're actually on our way there! I-"

"Chocolate frog?" Harry said, offering sweets to her and to Neville, before she could get into lecture-mode.

Neville took one with a quiet, "Thank you," and Hermione paused, looking interested.

"A what?"

"A chocolate frog," Harry said, passing her the box. "They're sweets." She'd had Bertie Botts when she'd come around to Grimmauld, but hadn't been overly fond of them, so it was with a fair bit of trepidation that she took a wrapped frog and turned it over in her hands.

"Oh," she said, looking at Neville. "Frog!"

"What?" he asked. Ron looked at Harry in askance, and Harry just shrugged.

"We've still got the rest of the back compartments to check," she said. "Come on, Neville. We'll be back later!" she said, ushering Neville out. Harry heard her knock on the compartment door next to theirs and heard, "Excuse me, have either of you seen-" before the door clicked shut.

"That's Hermione," Harry said.

"Right," Ron said faintly. They went back to their card game, chatting idly all the while. "Hey, did you hear about Gringotts?" Ron asked, after a while.

"Yeah, a bit," Harry said. "Padfoot's been working on it." He didn't offer any more than that, though; he wasn't supposed to know as much about it as he did, and he certainly wasn't supposed to tell people about it. Ron looked impressed.

"Do you know what was taken?"

"Nothing," Harry said. "No idea what they were after, either," he added honestly, forestalling Ron's next question. "The vault had been emptied, but the goblins won't say whose it was, or what was in there."

"And they don't know who's behind it?" Ron asked. Harry shook his head. "Weird," Ron said. "Bit scary, too, isn't it? I mean, Gringotts is supposed to be one of the most secure places in the world – or that's what Bill says, and he works for them, so it's probably true – and then someone just breaks in and doesn't get caught or anything..."

"Scary," Harry agreed. "So what does Bill do?"

"Oh, he's a cursebreaker. He's over in Egypt at the moment, working his way through all sorts of traps – magical and muggle – to find treasure." Ron launched into a proper explanation – Harry lost the next round, and had to eat a moss flavoured bean – and had just started on what Charlie did for a job when the door opened. Harry looked over, expecting Hermione, and saw instead that their visitor was taller, red-faced from dragging his trunk, and had a tawny eagle owl in a cage, in his other hand.

"So," he said, "it's true; everyone's saying that the famous Harry Potter's in this compartment... not much of a celebrity, are you?" This comment was matched by a smirk, but the sneer wasn't quite as harsh as it would have been; Draco was puffing, and he wasn't generally rude to Harry – on purpose, anyway. "You've got ash all over your face, and chocolate around your mouth."

"The _Prophet_ would have a field day, I'm sure; Harry Potter behaves like a normal kid," Harry said sarcastically. Draco stared at him.

"You know, Potter, I think that's the most words I've ever heard you put together at once." Harry sighed. Draco continued to stand there, in the doorway, giving Harry an expectant look, and then he was the one that sighed. "Don't just sit there, Potter, help me."

"With-"

"My trunk," Draco said. "Please." Harry stood and helped him drag it into the compartment. Draco put his owl down beside Hedwig, and the two looked at each other curiously. "Thank you." Draco chose the seat that was as far from Ron as was physically possible. "House elves should be mandatory on the train, to help us get our things around, don't you think?" Ron rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything. "House elves are these creatures we have at home," Draco said, "that help us with daily tasks."

"I know what a house elf is," Ron said, scowling.

"But you're a Weasley," Draco said, seeming surprised. "I didn't think you'd have even heard of them." Ron's ears turned pink again, and he opened his mouth – Harry was reasonably sure an explosion of some sort was coming, and didn't blame Ron – but then Draco spoke again; he'd spied Scabbers, who was asleep on the windowsill. "Is that your rat?" he asked, his expression brightening.

"Scabbers," Ron said cautiously.

"Scabbers...?" Draco scoffed. "Not a very nice name, is it?"

"My brother Percy-"

"It's okay," Draco said, "you're a Weasley." Harry groaned quietly from his corner of the compartment, sure that this was about to go from bad, to worse. "May I?" Ron blinked. "I like rats," Draco said. Harry stared at him.

"Er, sure," Ron said, looking baffled. He scooped Scabbers up and passed him over. Draco immediately let him sit in the crook of his elbow, and started stroking him.

And so they stayed; Draco played with Scabbers, Harry and Ron played cards, and Draco and Ron kept shooting unimpressed looks at each other. It wasn't _comfortable_, but there was yet to be a duel, or a fistfight, so Harry thought they were doing well, all things considered.

_For now, anyway._


	7. The Professor's Intervention

Harry managed to hit a winning streak in his and Ron's card game, and after his seventh bean in a row - to add insult to injury, it (apparently) tasted like bellybutton fluff – Ron gave up and started sorting through the pile of chocolate frog cards they'd gathered so far.

"Urgh," he said. "Morgana again; I reckon I've got about six of her."

"You're joking," Harry said. "I've got my dad's old album of cards, and he didn't ever manage to find one of her." Ron passed it over, and Harry tucked the card into his rucksack. He didn't really collect – certainly not to the level that James had – but if he found one he knew the album was missing, he'd add it.

"Any chance you've got Agrippa?" Ron asked hopefully. "I've got about five hundred, but not him, or Ptolemy."

"I reckon I've got at least four of him" Harry said. Ron's mouth fell open. "You can have one if you'd like."

"I got Ptolemy earlier," Draco said, from the corner. He pulled the card in question out of his pocket, and Ron looked torn between distaste at the source, and delight at his good luck. "Would you like it?" Ron looked surprised, and a little wary – Harry didn't blame him in the slightest. Draco held the card out impatiently. "Don't worry, Weasley, it's free," he drawled. "I don't need the money and you don't have it, so I won't charge you." Ron looked mildly insulted, but accepted the card.

"Thanks," he said. Draco just nodded and went back to stroking Scabbers. Harry spent a moment watching him; while Draco and Hydrus weren't _close,_ Harry had always been under the impression that they'd put up a united front when Hogwarts rolled around, for their own sake, and for the sake of the family name. Harry wasn't sure if they'd had a falling out that morning, or if they'd been separated, if Draco'd been driven away by others, or if Draco had just got up and left on his own... It was hard to tell; Draco didn't seem angry, or upset, just very subdued (and that could have been because Ron was there), but then, Harry wasn't all that good at reading Draco.

There was a knock on the door; Hermione was back. Her eyes skimmed over Ron, and Harry, and then stopped on Draco.

"Hermione, this is Draco, Draco, this is Hermione," Harry said. Draco looked up, curious. He opened his mouth, frowned, and then closed it again, looking a bit guilty. Harry wondered what he'd been about to say.

"Move," someone said, and Hermione was shoved – not overly roughly, but certainly unnecessarily – into the compartment. She tripped on Draco's outstretched foot, and would probably have landed on the ground if Ron hadn't caught her. Harry was on his feet at once.

"So this is where you've got to," Hydrus said, strolling into their compartment. He looked at Draco, who said nothing (Draco was suddenly even more interested in Ron's rat), and then at Draco's trunk in the corner. "A compartment with a blood traitor-" Ron's face flooded with colour, but he didn't say anything; he, like Harry, must have noticed the two large boys that had followed Hydrus in, like bodyguards. "-and precious Potter." Hydrus glanced at Hermione and curled his lip. "Well, shows what you know, Draco."

Draco continued to ignore him.

"You _can_ tell someone's blood from their appearance; no one with magical parents would be allowed to have teeth like _that_." Hermione made an injured sound, and Harry saw Draco's fist clench, but still he said nothing. "Mud-"

"Shut up," Harry said to Hydrus, and Ron got to his feet as well, looking furious. He was taller than everyone else in the compartment, but not as wide as either of Hydrus' bodyguards. Hydrus' smirk widened.

"And if I don't?" Hydrus said.

"You're not being very nice," Hermione said, from behind Harry. "You pushed me _and_ were very rude; I'll tell a teacher-"

"On the train?" Hydrus scoffed. "You really don't know anything about this world, do you, Mud-"

Harry would never know if Moony had some sort of sixth sense for detecting trouble (which was entirely possible, given his old circle of friends) or if he came across their compartment by pure chance, but all Harry knew was, that, as he raised his wand to jinx Hydrus for the name he'd been about to call Hermione, his hand cramped.

"Is there a problem here?" Moony asked mildly, looking down on the Hydrus and his goons. Hydrus' face was comical; he looked terrified, and then embarrassed, and then managed to get a haughty expression back on.

"No, _Professor_," he sneered. "None at all." Hydrus gave the occupants – all of them – of the compartment a superior look, and then nodded at the other two, who followed him out. Moony didn't, as Harry had half expected, follow them, or say anything else on the matter. Instead, he flicked his own wand, and the cramping in Harry's hand ceased.

"What was that for?" Harry demanded.

Moony glanced around the compartment, at Hermione, who looked relieved he'd intervened, at Ron, who was still standing, and looked angry, and at Draco, who was still paying very close attention to Scabbers. He tilted his head and Harry frowned, glanced at the others – hoping that Ron and Draco wouldn't kill each other, or Hermione, while he was gone – and then followed Moony out into the corridor, pulling the door shut behind him.

* * *

The few people that were in the corridor and not settled in their compartments disappeared quickly when they saw Remus reappear and so he and Harry had the corridor to themselves. Harry was massaging his hand, and Remus felt a stab of guilt for that, and then reminded himself it had been for the best. While he was sure there was a good reason for Harry raising his wand, there were several better ones that supported his intervention.

"Well?" Harry asked grumpily.

Remus sighed. He and Harry spent a lot of time together, but Remus had never really joined in on the parenting aspect. He was happy to give advice, or offer a comment like 'Is that really a good idea?', or help Harry with homework, or tell him a story, but he always let Sirius deal with the... well, with serious matters. It wasn't Remus that Harry came to when he wanted to discuss nightmares, or if he needed someone to confide in; that was well and truly Sirius' area.

"Think," Remus sighed. "You're not a celebrity at home, Harry, but you're not _at_ home anymore. People are watching you-" People were watching all of them, these days – Sirius and Remus for years, but Harry'd been sheltered until now. "-and if you go around hexing people – and Lucius Malfoy's son, of all people, then word will get around." Harry said nothing. "It won't look good for you, and it won't look good for Sirius, as an Auror, to have you throwing spells around at every opportunity you get. You're not even off the train, for-"

"I wasn't just throwing spells around," Harry said, with a scowl that made Remus wish Sirius was there with them, so that he could handle this instead. Remus arched an eyebrow. "Do you know what he called – or started to call Hermione? The M-word."

"_Little git had it coming; you didn't hear what he said, Moony! He called Lily the M-word, like it was nothing!"_

For a moment, it wasn't Harry standing before Remus; it was James. James, with the same set jaw, angry eyes, and heated tone as Harry had now, trying to explain to (back then) new-Prefect-Remus, that he'd given Regulus silver skin because he'd called Lily a Mudblood. Harry glowered at the ground, and Remus was reluctant to speak and break the moment, and lose the temporary reincarnation of James, but eventually, he did find his voice.

"That's still no reason for you to react the way you did; there's always a better way to handle these things."

_"Short of him hexing me or her, what could possibly be a _better_ reason?"_

Harry's response, though, was different to his father's; he didn't say anything at all, but Remus caught his scent, and he smelled betrayed. Guilt squirmed in Remus chest, and Remus almost apologised, and then shook his head. He was Harry's 'godmother' but he was also his teacher, and that needed to come first, at least for the next few days until the scrutiny (of the re-emerging Harry Potter, and of Remus the teacher-werewolf) died down. Hydrus Malfoy was, Remus had no doubt, a little wart, but he couldn't just turn a blind eye to kids hexing each other, particularly not when Harry knew some that could actually cause damage... he'd made that mistake during his own school years.

Remus took a deep breath and nodded at Harry's compartment, where, perhaps, the oddest combination of children he'd ever seen together, sat.

"I'll be up the front with the driver," he said, when Harry didn't say anything; he was looking out the window at the darkening sky, perhaps thinking, or perhaps just avoiding eye contact. "And you might want to think about putting your robes on; we'll be there in about an hour."

Harry nodded and headed back into his compartment. Remus shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling very unsure about the whole exchange, and wished, once again, that Sirius was there with them to mediate. And Dora, too - not so much for the mediation – if only for her company. He sighed, and started toward to front of the train.

* * *

The rest of the train ride passed without fanfare. Draco had – after being horrified to learn that Scabbers didn't have a cage, and instead travelled around in Ron's pocket even on long journeys – sent his owl home to ask his parents to send his old rat cage, and then relinquished his the rat to Ron. Ron had been surprised by the kind gesture, and spent the majority of the time after that watching Draco carefully, as if reforming his opinions of him.

Draco, unlike Hydrus, seemed more interested than offended by Hermione's blood status – something Harry found very relieving - and had started to question her on a whole assortment of aspects of muggle life. Strange ones like 'Do muggle families eat dinner together?' and 'So what exactly do muggles _do_?' cropped up regularly, and Hermione seemed confused, but happy enough to answer. And, emboldened by Draco's questions – perhaps realising that nothing he said in comparison could sound silly - Ron started to ask her things too, though his questions were more specific. Ron wanted to know how muggles cooked and cleaned, and how they played Quidditch if they didn't have broomsticks.

Harry sat in silence, laughing every now and then at some of the funnier ones that came up, but mostly he was thinking about what Moony had said. Harry hadn't given the celebrity thing much thought, other than to think he'd rather like it if he _wasn't_ famous, and he certainly hadn't worked out that he'd be watched like a Snitch for the first little while. He also thought that, while Moony was right about there being better ways to deal with Hydrus than hexing him, that Hydrus thoroughly deserved it for his horrible disposition, and that Harry might, in the future, have to start listening to Padfoot: _don't get caught._

Eventually, Hermione escaped the quizzing, saying she needed to change into her robes, and once she was gone, the boys changed into their school uniforms, and pulled their robes on over the top. Harry saw Draco eyeing Ron's second-hand, slightly-too-short ones, but he didn't comment on it, though Harry was sure he must have been dying to.

Instead, Draco bit his lip and turned to look out the window, where mountains and thick trees were blurring past. Harry thought they were becoming clearer, though; the train was slowing down.

"We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

Outside, people were moving in the corridors, and excited babble was drifting through the door.

"Do we just-?" Harry asked, nodding toward the corridor.

Ron, who was very pale, just shrugged, and said, "I s'pose." Draco didn't say anything, but he followed them out into the crowd, and stuck close to Harry's side. The train stopped completely only moments later, and then Harry found himself being ushered out into the brisk night by the taller, older students.

He shivered, and looked around for the others. Hermione wasn't anywhere to be seen, but Ron and Draco – red and white, in the dim light – had managed to stay together, and Harry headed straight for them, and then started to look around for Moony.

"What-" Ron began, but was cut off as light – in the form of a floating lantern - flooded the platform.

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" The lantern, it turned out, was not floating – Harry decided he was _far _too used to magic – but was actually being held, by Hagrid. He smiled down on them all, and called a greeting to Harry when he spotted him. "C'mon, follow me – any more firs' years?" Harry started to look around for Blaise, but it was dark and there were lots of others around. "Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Hagrid led the way down a narrow path – and a rather steep one at that – and the rest of them stumbled after him. Nobody had much to say, except Hydrus, who, somewhere behind them, was wondering loudly if Hagrid was kidnapping them all to eat them. Draco sniggered at that, and then saw Harry's frown and fell silent.

"Yeh'll all get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called, from up ahead, "jus' round this bend here." Around the other side of the bend was the edge of the lake, and on the other side of the water was Hogwarts, big and tall, with the light from its windows shining like golden stars in the dark sky.

Harry was not the only one to make an impressed noise; several people made 'Oooh' noises, and a girl at the back even squealed before she was shushed by her friends.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called and for the first time, Harry noticed the fleet of boats resting by the shore. He, Ron and Draco climbed into a boat and were joined by a girl Harry didn't know. Hermione and Neville climbed into the boat next to theirs with the girl Bones had been with, and another boy. "Everyone in?" Hagrid shouted. "Forward!"

The boats took off smoothly across the lake. Harry settled against the side and looked up at the castle – he'd visited before, but only been outside once, and not at night, or from as far away – just drinking in the sight of his new home.

Hagrid's voice jolted him out of his reverie, but Harry'd missed the actual words. He craned his head to try to see ahead, and then Draco shoved his head down. They passed through a curtain of ivy and into a wide cavern lit by torches that held some sort of hidden dock.

"Do you want your head knocked off?" Draco hissed, as their boat stopped with a bump of wood against wood, and Ron and the girl clambered out.

"Not really, no," Harry muttered back. "Thanks." Hermione and Neville made their way over – Hermione was asking Neville if he still had his toad with him, and Neville was nodding shyly – and the five of them joined the rest of the first years. Hagrid led them up a passageway and out onto damp grass, and then up a set of stone steps.

"Everyone here?"

Then, he lifted his enormous fist and knocked on the heavy front door three times. It swung open at once. A tall witch with black hair and a strict expression stood there, surveying the first years. Her sharp eyes landed on Harry several times, but her expression never changed. He nodded at her; he'd met her once, briefly, during Padfoot's trial.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here." She pulled the door open properly and everyone shuffled inside. Hermione's chatter about facts she'd read in _Hogwarts: A History_ ceased as she too took in the huge Entrance Hall and massive marble staircase.

"If I remember correctly," Harry heard Hermione saying, "the Great Hall - where students have meals – is just through that door."

Harry glanced toward the doorway on the right that she had directed Neville's attention to and could hear the buzz of hundreds of voices. Professor McGonagall led them right past it and into a side-chamber. For the first time since the platform, Harry found himself feeling nervous... not for any real reason, he just supposed he was getting caught up in it with everyone else. He shared a look with a grim Ron, and Draco hadn't said anything, but he was still staying quite close.

"Can you see Blaise?" he whispered to Hermione. She craned her neck and looked around, and then shook her head.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall said. "The start of term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony here because, while you are here, your House will be like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House Common Room. The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each House has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards.

"While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn you House points, while any rule-breaking will lose House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will become a great credit to whichever House becomes yours. The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting." Her beady eyes lingered on Neville's cloak which was fastened under his left ear, and on Harry and Ron's faces; Harry remembered too late that they probably had ash all over them. He scrubbed his face with his sleeve, and McGonagall's thin lips twitched. "I shall return when we are ready for you. Until then, please wait quietly." With a swish of emerald robes, she was gone.

"Ceremony in front of the rest of the school?" Harry asked, looking over at the others, horrified. "Do you how they sort us into Houses?" Harry asked. He'd asked Padfoot and Moony a few times, but neither had ever let on, but that hadn't bothered him because he'd assumed it was private.

Ron shrugged, pale under his freckles, and said, "Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot but I think he was joking." Harry nodded, mentally running through the spells he'd learnt and might need. He couldn't see her, but he could hear Hermione doing the same. He was just trying to remember the incantation for a basic shield charm when several students screamed.

A group of ghosts had just floated through the wall arguing amongst themselves: "-forgive and forget, I say," said a fat little monk, "we ought to give him a second chance-"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost- I say, what are you all doing here?" A ghost in tights and a ruffled shirt had just noticed the first years. Nobody answered.

"New students!" the Fat Friar said, beaming around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?" A few people, Harry among them, nodded. "Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" he said kindly. "My old House you know."

"Move along now," Professor McGonagall said sharply, making a chubby girl with pigtails jump and scream. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start." The ghosts drifted through the wall, making several students break out in nervous chatter again. "Now, form two lines and follow me." Harry got into line behind Ron. Draco was beside him, looking calm, but resigned.

"Good luck," Harry muttered. Draco turned to stare at him, seeming confused.

"Thanks?" he said after a moment. "Good luck to you, too."

Professor McGonagall led them out of the chamber, back across the Entrance Hall and into the room Hermione had pointed to when they first arrived. It was easily as big as the Entrance Hall and had four long tables where the older students were sitting, and one table across the far end where the teachers sat.

Dumbledore was front and centre, beaming around at them all, and Snape was to his left – the seat on his right was empty, and was probably McGonagall's – and Moony was beside Snape. He smiled at Harry when he spotted him, and Harry, despite having some lingering frustration, waved and smiled back. Harry didn't recognise any of the other teachers, but there was a tiny little man next to McGonagall's empty seat, and a witch with enormous glasses and flyaway hair right down the end on the left, who was staring intently into the bottom of her goblet.

Above the tables were thousands of floating candles which bathed the Hall in a warm golden light and above that was the ceiling, which was velvety black and dotted with stars. Hermione was telling Ron – who looked too terrified to actually be paying proper attention - that it was bewitched to look like the night sky. Harry hid a smile. As they drew even with the end of the tables, McGonagall re-emerged, carrying a stool and a frayed hat.

The older students were watching the hat expectantly. Harry shared a confused look with Ron – Draco and Hermione were staring straight ahead and wouldn't meet his eye - and looked up in time to see a stitch near the brim open. The hat began to sing:

_"You may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top-hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all!_

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you,_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart._

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true,_

_And not afraid of toil._

_Or yet, in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_If you've a ready mind._

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind._

_Or perhaps in Slytherin,_

_You'll make your real friends._

_Those cunning folk use any means,_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none),_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

The entire Hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song and bowed to each of the four tables.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered to Harry, sounding relieved. "I'll kill Fred; he was going on about wrestling a troll!"

Harry nodded, but wondered how safe it was; he was a Secret Keeper, after all – not that they were hiding anymore - and he knew an awful lot about things like Horcruxes, and about Padfoot's Auror cases, and all sorts of other things that he didn't really think a hat needed to know. Harry's wondering was cut short by Professor McGonagall who was holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be Sorted,' she said. "Abbott, Hannah!" A red faced girl with blonde pigtails - the one who had screamed when McGonagall had returned - stumbled out of the line in front of Harry and put the hat on.

There was a short pause and then the hat shouted, "HUFFLEPUFF!" A table to Harry's right – all with yellow and black ties - cheered as Hannah sat down.

"Bones, Susan!" The girl who'd been with Bones that morning hurried up, but Harry didn't pay much attention to that; he was wondering where 'Benson, Blaise' was. He glanced around, but couldn't see through the throng of first years, and gave up in time to see Susan take the hat off and hurry over to join Hannah at the Hufflepuff table.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!" Ravenclaw's reaction was a little more subdued – clapping instead of cheering – but several older students shook hands with Terry as he sat down next to a pretty Asian girl. Mandy Brocklehurst, a tall girl with a short brown ponytail joined Terry in Ravenclaw, and a moment later a girl with curly brown hair named Lavender Brown went to join the Gryffindor table, which exploded into applause. Millicent Bullstrode, a tall, thickly set girl with a square jaw was the first Slytherin of the evening.

Justin Finch-Fletchley – the boy that had been in the boat with Hermione and Neville - became a Hufflepuff.

"That's what he wanted!" Hermione whispered, and then jumped as her name was called.

She had the hat on her head for the longest of anyone so far, and Harry was surprised when it finally called, "GRYFFINDOR!" because he'd fully expected her to end up in Ravenclaw. He caught her eye and smiled though, and hoped more than ever that he would end up in Gryffindor too.

When Neville Longbottom was called, he fell over on his way up to the stool.

The hat took a long time to decide, but finally it called out "GRYFFINDOR!" Harry was a little surprised - he'd picked Neville for Hufflepuff - but he clapped along with the rest anyway. Neville himself looked shocked but pleased as he ran off to sit down, still wearing the hat.

He had to jog back through everyone's laughter to pass it to "MacDougal, Morag."

Draco was called shortly after. The entire Slytherin table perked up at the mention of his surname. He extracted himself from his place beside Harry and walked to the front. The hat - which covered most of his head – was quiet for a long time, but Harry thought he could hear Draco talking to it.

* * *

Severus' heart was in his throat as Draco approached the stool and sat down. Beside him, Lupin could probably smell it, because he looked sympathetic. Severus put his back to the werewolf, and focused on his godson, who didn't look even faintly nervous.

Severus wondered if Draco would look nervous if he had even the slightest inkling of what Severus and Narcissa had done to him over the past few years. The boy that sat beneath the hat now, looked the same as the one who'd come to Severus' office at his mother's request, to re-sort a bookshelf, but he was entirely different. They'd put ideas in his head, changed him, slowly, changed the way he thought and the way he acted... Draco, untouched, and left to grow up the same way Hydrus had, would be a lot like Hydrus, although, Severus suspected, he would be an little kinder; Draco had always had that tendency.

There was silence but confused looks were beginning to pass between friends and colleagues.

_Teach him to survive_, Narcissa had said. So, Severus had taught the boy to lie, to see lies, and to organise, so that once he was thirteen, he'd be able to take up Occlumency without difficulty. He would have Severus' rather unique skill set. And, if Severus and Narcissa had done their jobs properly, he would have that skill set, a Gryffindor tie, and Harry Potter's friendship.

And, with those three, he would have a choice, and therefore freedom that few people had; when the time came, he could serve the Dark Lord from Gryffindor, the way Pettigrew had. Or, perhaps, like Severus, he would change sides and play double agent. If Potter was anything like his mother – and Severus, _very_ grudgingly, had to admit there were _some_ similarities – then friendship with him would not be an easy thing to turn away from... or at least it wouldn't be, if Draco could keep himself from making Severus' mistakes.

But, whichever side he did choose – and Severus hoped rather fiercely that it would be Potter's, Dumbledore's and his, so that he didn't have to kill his godson – could be kept a secret, if Draco so desired, and with ambiguity came safety...

But that all hinged on the Sorting Hat's next word. They had a tentative friendship already, but if Draco didn't make it into Gryffindor, he'd never make it – properly – into Potter's circle of friends, never have the chance to offer himself as a spy, or have the reasons to turn on the Dark Lord. He would have no choice but to follow in his father's footsteps, and kneel at the Dark Lord's feet, and he would have a life of servitude whether he wanted it or not.

That was what Narcissa feared, what she wanted to avoid, regardless of the cost.

Severus did, of course, want Draco to have a better quality of life than 'Death Eater' but above all - and he'd never admit this to anyone, and especially not to Dumbledore - he just wanted Draco to be happy, doing whatever he enjoyed, or spending time with people whose company he appreciated.

And, Severus knew, thanks to his and Narcissa's manipulations, there was really only one place that he'd find that.

_For all the good it does, _he thought, _I am sorry, Draco._

Severus sighed, crossed his fingers in his lap and thought with all his might, _Gryffindor. Please, please, let it be Gryffindor._


	8. Sorting Things Out

"I attempted to attack Mr Remus Lupin knowingly, because he's a werewolf, and I don't want him teaching my son," Sirius read.

"I didn't have the 'Mr' in there," Paul Morton – the git who'd attacked Remus at the platform earlier that day – said, "but otherwise, yes, that's my statement." Sirius set the parchment down on the interview room's desk, and took a deep breath.

"And the spell you used?"

"I've forgotten, I'm afraid," Morton replied, folding his arms. He smiled coolly at the wall behind Sirius. Morton didn't have a criminal history, or one in the D.M.L.E., so Sirius wasn't sure how he knew about the one-sided Disillusionment Charm on the wall, but Sirius was certain that the smile was directed at Brown and Hemsley on the other side.

"I don't believe you," Sirius said.

"Prove I'm lying," Morton said, arching an eyebrow. Sirius pulled his Sensor Sphere – a birthday present from Robards last year – out of his pocket.

"Hold this and say that again," he said. Morton just gave Sirius a how-stupid-do-I-look stare.

"They don't hold up in the Wizengamot," he said flatly. "Got anything else?"

Sirius ground his teeth together, and tucked his sphere away. He hadn't recognised Morton's spell, hadn't heard an incantation – and neither had any of the witnesses Brown had questioned – and the spell hadn't hit, so there were no known effects.

They'd arrested Morton for verbal assault (he'd said some very unsavoury things about Remus when Sirius first approached him on the platform – and it was within Remus' earshot, so the charges held, even though Sirius was making them on Remus' behalf, and Remus didn't know about them), attempted magical assault, and had brought him in for questioning because of the potential link to the Gringotts case and the first attack on Remus, but they had nothing, and Morton knew it. Sirius could, if he pulled a few strings, get Morton questioned under Veritaserum, but it wasn't worth it. There was something off about the man, and he was a prejudiced git, but neither of those were things that they could condemn him for.

"You can expect your fine in the mail in the next two days," Sirius said stiffly. Morton's cold smile widened. "And the Aurors may still contact you for a second round of questioning, so please don't leave the country or county at all in the next week."

"I won't," Morton said, getting up. He went to the door, but didn't leave through it; he waited, instead, for Sirius to get up and open it, and not because he was unsure; Sirius rather thought he just wanted the door held open for him.

_Git, _he thought darkly. He recollected Morton's statement from the table and then left the interview room, to meet up with Hemsley and Brown.

"What an arsehole," Brown said, without preamble. Sirius favoured him with a rare smile, and then looked at Hemsley.

"What'd you think?"

"There's something Dark about him," was all Hemsley said; he didn't offer an opinion, which Sirius thought meant that he disagreed with Brown's summary; if Hemsley had an unpopular opinion, he tended to keep it quiet and stick to facts. Hemsley gestured to the table of instruments lined up against the Disillusioned wall, and, more specifically, the Dark Detector. "This one went off a few times."

"That's helpful," Sirius grumbled. He'd been caught by a Dark Detector when he had the Horcrux with him in Diagon Alley, but he'd also known Dark Detectors to go off for things as 'Dark' as a wand core. Morton might just have had a particularly vicious dragon supply the dragon heartstring in his wand. Or maybe the Detector thought he was a git too. "Any of the others do anything?"

"Nothing," Brown said. "I reckon he was lying about not remembering the spell, though." Hemsley said nothing. "So, what do we do?"

"Nothing," Hemsley said, shrugging. "We can't lock people up for prejudice, and no one was hurt. Case closed." Hemsley was very quiet about his own political standings, but Sirius had managed to learn that Hemsley wasn't particularly comfortable around humanoid magical creatures, except goblins. He didn't want them all killed or anything, but he wouldn't go out of his way to help them either.

Sirius nodded briskly and left. He didn't really think that Morton had created a goblin Inferi, or successfully broken in and out of Gringotts, but he also thought there was more to Morton than they'd uncovered today, and his instincts were telling him to keep an eye on him for the next little while.

_If I'm wrong, and he's just a git, _Sirius thought to himself, _then that's the end of it. But if he's something more dangerous..._ Sirius checked his Sidekick; Harry was probably at Hogwarts by now, or very close to arriving. He smiled to himself and stopped by his cubicle to collect a few case files to look over that night.

"Sirius!"

Marlene, like Sirius, looked like she was about to leave for the night; she had a heavy textbook under one arm, and a phial of something in the other hand.

"Poison analysis," she said, when she saw what he was looking at.

"Sounds fun," Sirius said. She grunted.

"I've been to St Mungo's twice this week." Sirius gave her a sympathetic look. "Are you heading off?"

"Yeah-"

"Do you have anything planned for dinner?"

"It's just Kreacher and me, tonight," Sirius said, shrugging.

"So you're not interested in eating out?" she asked. "I could use a break from all of, well, this." She lifted the phial again. Sirius bit his lip, sorely tempted to accept, but shook his head.

"Any other night," he said apologetically, "sure."

"Here comes the 'but'," Marlene said wryly. Sirius grimaced. "Have you got a date or something?" Sirius told himself he was imagining the jealousy that had crept into her voice.

_She's made it very clear, a thousand times before, that she's not interested in you anymore, _he told himself. But he was curious, now.

"Date's probably too formal a word for this," Sirius said casually.

"Oh, so it's one of _those_ nights?" Marlene said, smirking, but the skin between her eyebrows had creased. "Harry's away, so-"

"-Harry and I are going to mirror call, yeah," Sirius said innocently, as if that had been what Marlene was about to suggest. He watched Marlene's expression change from shocked to embarrassed. "I expect he'll want to tell me about the train ride, and I'm dying to know which House he ends up in." Marlene still seemed to be processing the words 'mirror call'. "I'm not doing anything tomorrow night, though," Sirius continued, with a grin. "If you still want a break from study, I'm sure I can help out."

"Sounds good," she managed.

"I'll meet you in the Atrium at six," Sirius said. He winked and then forced himself to walk away before he did something stupid like try to kiss her.

* * *

After nearly two minutes, the hat finally opened its mouth and shouted "GRYFFINDOR!"

If Harry'd been surprised to hear Hermione's Sorting, he was stunned to hear Draco's. Next to him, Ron's mouth was hanging open.

The entire hall was silent. Harry could see Hydrus' wide-eyed look of disbelief, and could feel the shock radiating off the Slytherin and Gryffindor tables. Draco tugged the hat off his head, looking horrified.

"I think there's been a mistake," he said to McGonagall, and the words echoed around the hall. He sounded scared, panicked, and like he might cry, all at once. McGonagall – if her face was any indication – thought there'd been a mistake too, but she just shook her head.

"Take a seat with your House, Mr Malfoy," she said faintly, pointing. Harry wondered, through his shock, if this was how Padfoot's Sorting had gone. Draco stood in front of her for another few seconds, and then walked woodenly over to the Gryffindor table. He took a seat right at the end, looking distinctly uncomfortable, and completely ignored Hermione's whispered congratulations, and Ron's Prefect brother's offered handshake. Harry tried to catch his eye, but Draco wasn't looking at anyone or thing.

Up at the staff table, Moony looked surprised, and Snape was impossible to read. Dumbledore, though, started to clap, and a few students from around the hall joined in, but the majority were still silent.

"Malfoy, Hydrus," McGonagall said, with no small amount of trepidation.

His Sorting was much faster, however; the hat barely touched his blond head before it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!" He walked over to the cheering table and sat down between Crabbe and Goyle – the hulking boys who'd accompanied him into Harry's compartment on the train – looking pleased with himself. Harry saw him give Draco's back a scornful look.

Harry took a deep breath; there weren't many people left now. Lily Moon was sent to Hufflepuff, Christopher Morton – the son of the man that had tried to hex Moony on the platform – went to Slytherin and so did Theodore Nott and Pansy Parkinson. Padma Patil was sorted into Ravenclaw and her twin sister Parvati was sorted into Gryffindor. Sally-Anne Perks was sorted into Ravenclaw and then, finally, "Potter, Harry!"

Harry wiped his sweaty palms on his robes – he'd been calm until Draco's Sorting, and now he was reasonably sure that he could end up _anywhere_ - and stepped forward, nodding to acknowledge Ron's whispered "Good luck!" Other whispers broke out all through the Hall, even at the staff table.

"Potter, did she say?"

"The Harry Potter?"

It seemed to take an eternity to reach the stool and take the hat from a critical looking Professor McGonagall. The last thing Harry saw before he put the hat on was an entire hall full of people trying to get a good look at him; two Hufflepuff girls were standing on their seats and he suspected a Gryffindor boy would lose balance and fall off the bench if he leant back any further.

Harry waited anxiously, wondering if the hat was already reading his thoughts, or if he had to say something to it first.

"Hmm," said a quiet voice in his ear. Harry jumped. "Difficult. Very difficult... plenty of loyalty, but you're not a Hufflepuff... you don't have the work-ethic. No offense," the Hat added as an afterthought.

_None taken, _Harry said quickly; he knew that.

"And you've got a good mind, but you're not a Ravenclaw either, even if you are trying to follow in your family's footsteps with your little wolf project..." Harry cringed, and hoped the Hat would keep that particular piece of information to itself. "Which leaves Slytherin or Gryffindor. You've got plenty of courage and you'd do nicely in Gryffindor, I think, but you're no stranger to secrets either... that's interesting..."

Harry was dying to think _Not Slytherin_, but he didn't; Draco had been talking to the Hat, and it didn't seem to have made a difference. The Hat made an amused sound.

"Brave of you," it said, "not to try to get out of a House you're not particularly keen on. Or stupid." Harry didn't reply. "Brave and stupid," the Hat said, "and no real ambitions to do anything with your fame. Better be... GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry took the hat off and walked toward Gryffindor table in a daze. The cheer was deafening; the Weasley twins had started a chant ("We got Potter! We got Potter!"). Percy the Prefect – who introduced himself over the din - stood and shook his hand, as did several other members of the House. Even the staff table was clapping; Hagrid beamed and gave a thumbs up which Harry returned, Moony was clapping and grinning, Dumbledore was clapping too, and Snape inclined his head ever so slightly.

Harry sat down next to Draco who struggled with himself before muttering, "Congratulations".

"Thanks," Harry said awkwardly. He wanted to offer the same, but doubted it would be well received. As Price, Leanne was called, Draco went back to staring at his hands. Hermione beamed at Harry from across the table, and Neville offered him a timid smile too. A ghost in a ruff patted his arm, startling Harry – it felt like someone had just pressed a block of ice against his arm - but he mustered a smile and shook his head; the ghost had started to apologise.

Harry looked back to the Sorting Hat, which had just placed tall, dark-haired "Thomas, Dean" in Gryffindor.

Ron was looking positively green; Harry thought it was as much nerves as it was the fact that he and a surly looking dark-skinned boy were the only two left to Sort. Harry did a double-take. In the wake of Draco's Sorting, and the nerves leading up to his own, Harry had completely forgotten about Blaise.

"Hermione," he hissed. She looked away from Ron, who was approaching McGonagall, and at Harry. "Look." She gasped. Harry stared at the side of Blaise's head, willing him to turn around, but he was looking resolutely forward, watching Ron.

Ron jammed the hat onto his bright hair.

"Another Weasley?" a blond girl whispered at the Ravenclaw table. Harry saw Fred and George grin and Percy's ears redden slightly.

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat shouted. Ron slumped, a look of relief settling on his freckled face. Fred and George whistled and Percy clapped loudly as Ron passed the hat back and joined Harry. Draco groaned and buried his head in his hands.

Blaise Zabini – so he'd taken the name of the witch that came to visit him at school the day he vanished - took a while to be Sorted too. Not as long as Draco or Harry, or even Hermione, but longer than most of the others. He looked calm though, not as if he was arguing with it, or anything like that.

"SLYTHERIN!" the Hat announced, and Harry exchanged a baffled look with Hermione as Blaise smirked, whipped the Hat off and went and sat between Pansy Parkinson and Theodore Nott.

McGonagall vanished the scroll with a tap of her wand, and carried the Hat and stool away as Dumbledore got to his feet. He was beaming around at them all, his arms open in welcome.

"Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin with our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

He sat back down, smiling, and Harry laughed and clapped along with everyone else. He didn't even notice the food appearing on the golden plates in front of them until Hermione and Dean Thomas let out an 'Oh!' of surprise, in unison.

Harry took a bit of everything, wondering how the cooking here compared to Kreacher's and was impressed. It was different, but tasted just as good. Ron, beside him, was eating with gusto, but Draco's plate was still empty.

"Roll?" Harry asked, offering Draco the bread basket. He shook his head, and continued to stare at the table. "Potatoes? Steak?"

"I'm not hungry."

"I am," the ghost in the ruff said gloomily. "I haven't eaten for nearly four hundred years. I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it. Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, by the way; resident ghost of Gryffindor tower."

"I know who you are," Ron said suddenly, through a mouthful of roast carrot. Hermione and Draco both gave him vaguely revolted looks. "You're Nearly Headless Nick; Fred and George told me about-" Sir Nicholas turned to give Fred and George an irritable look, and in the process, his head fell off his neck and rested on his shoulder.

Seamus Finnegan, who'd been in the middle of asking how someone could be 'Nearly-Headless', started and spilled his pumpkin juice. The others – Harry included – all had the same stunned expressions. Percy sighed and passed Seamus a napkin.

"So," Nick said, righting his head, "I hope you new Gryffindors are going to be an asset to the House; we haven't won the cup in far too long, if you ask me." He looked around expectantly, and seemed - despite his apparent dislike for his nickname - pleased that they were all still staring at him with awe. "The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable."

"He's the Slytherin ghost," Hermione said tentatively, "isn't he?" Harry, Ron, Seamus and Dean all looked over at the Slytherin table, where a ghost in chains and bloodstains was sitting beside Hydrus. Hydrus, Harry was happy to notice, did not seem impressed with the seating arrangements.

"How'd he get like that?" Seamus asked, fascinated.

"I've never asked," Sir Nick said gently. Seamus looked disappointed.

"Do you know?" he asked Hermione, who didn't. "I'll give someone a galleon if they ask," Seamus said, looking around the table.

"No, thanks," Dean said at once. Harry and Ron shook their heads.

"Fred and George might do it," Ron said thoughtfully.

"You could get your brother to ask," Seamus said, prodding Draco, who flinched. He looked up slowly, his face changing from uncomfortable to blank in less than a second.

"And what makes you think we need your money?" Draco sneered. Seamus frowned at him.

"It's just incentive," Seamus said.

"I'm not a Weasley," Draco said, and then returned to glaring at the table. Fred, George and Percy all looked around at their name, but thankfully hadn't heard the comment; dessert had appeared at that moment, replacing dinner, and drawn a fair bit of attention. Ron, though, had heard but he didn't respond the way Harry'd expected; he didn't go red, or swell, or offer any sort of insult back.

"Oi, Malfoy," he said, digging around in his pocket. "If you're not eating, would you mind holding Scabbers; he tends to get a bit mad when there are sweets around."

Draco looked up and didn't say a word, but there was something in his expression like confused gratitude, and he accepted Scabbers carefully. Harry saw his lip tremble before Draco got control of himself. Ron didn't say anything; he was demolishing a bowl of icecream, as if what he'd done was no big deal.

Harry helped himself to his second serve of treacle tart for the day – he'd eaten the one Kreacher packed for him on the train – and turned his attention back to the other first years' conversation; they'd moved onto the topic of families.

Seamus said something funny about his that Harry missed, and then Ron asked Neville about his.

"I live with my gran," Neville said, giving Harry a fearful look. Harry gave him a confused one back in return, and Neville quickly looked away. "She's a witch, but my whole family thought I was a muggle because I couldn't do any magic until I was eight. My Great Uncle Algie dropped me out a window when my Great Aunt Enid offered him a meringue and I bounced," he added, making Seamus and Lavender laugh. The others exchanged looks. "Then they didn't think I would be magical enough to get in here, so my Great Uncle Algie pushed me off the Blackpool Pier last year. I had to go to St Mungo's."

"Sounds like a great bloke," Ron said sarcastically.

"Gran was really angry," Neville said. "But he was so pleased when I got in that he bought me Trevor."

"My family's magical, but gran's a muggle," Lavender Brown said, from beside Hermione. "Mum works for _Witch Weekly_, and Dad's with the _Prophet_... And I think my brother knows your godfather," she added, looking at Harry. "He's an Auror trainee." Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Neville twitch at the word 'Auror'.

"Ooh," said Parvati Patil, who was sitting across from Lavender. "He must be very brave." Neville's fingers whitened around his spoon.

"I think he's annoying," Lavender replied, flipping her hair.

"So does Padfoot," Harry muttered to Ron, who choked. Lavender grinned at him, and Ron smiled back uncertainly. Harry, though, was watching Neville again; he'd gone back to eating, but there was a tightness around his shoulders that hadn't been there before.

Dessert disappeared eventually too, and Dumbledore got to his feet. Everyone fell silent, and he smiled.

"I have a few reminders to pass on, before I let you head to your dormitories. Firstly, that the forbidden forest is... well, forbidden." His eyes twinkled. "This is mostly directed at those of you who have just arrived, but a few of our older students could probably stand to take note as well..." The Weasley twins chuckled as Dumbledore glanced in their direction. "I will also advise you keep your distance from the Whomping Willow." Harry could have sworn that Dumbledore looked at the Weasley twins again, and then at the entirety of the Gryffindor table. "Those of you that had Professor Gudgeon last year will know that it is not to be trifled with."

Murmurs went out amongst the older students, and among those like Ron – who'd probably heard stories from his brothers – and Harry – who'd heard why Moony was offered the job, and also just stories of Gudgeon (who'd been the year above Padfoot and his parents) in school.

"Secondly, our caretaker Mr Filch-" Fred and George both started sniggering. "-has asked me to remind you that no magic is to be used in the corridors, between classes." Lots of students rolled their eyes at this. "Quidditch trials will be held next week, and anyone interested in playing for their House team should contact their Head of House, their Quidditch Captain, or Madam Hooch." Madam Hooch, a witch with spiky grey hair, lifted a hand and waved from the staff table. "I'd also like to introduce Professor Lupin, who will be taking over for Professor Gudgeon as our Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher." Moony stood and waved, and the majority of the students clapped politely – Harry, Hermione and Ron clapped the loudest – while some didn't clap at all. Moony sat again.

"And finally," Dumbledore said, his tone suddenly serious, "I must tell you that the right hand side of the third floor corridor is out of bounds to everyone that does not wish to die a most painful death."

Only a few people laughed, and Harry was not among them. He waited for Dumbledore to give them a reason, but none came. Percy seemed to be thinking along the same lines; Hermione asked him something, looking horrified, and Percy replied, "He's serious, I think, but I can't imagine why this is the first time I've heard about it... we Prefects really ought to know about these things."

"And now," Dumbledore said, his voice light again, "before we all go off to our beds, let us sing the school song." Harry saw McGonagall lean back so that she could say something to Moony. Moony was very obviously fighting a laugh when he reappeared. Dumbledore conjured the words. "Everyone pick their favourite tune and off we go."

_"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,_

_Teach us something please,_

_Whether we be old and bald_

_Or young with scabby knees,_

_Our heads could do with filling_

_With some interesting stuff,_

_For now they're bare and full of air,_

_Dead flies and bits of fluff,_

_So teach us things worth knowing,_

_Bring back what we've forgot,_

_Just do your best, we'll do the rest,_

_And learn until our brains all rot."_

Some people, who'd picked very lively tunes, finished early. The rest – Harry included – finished somewhere in the middle, shortly before Draco, who was singing in a very low, very depressed sort of way. Last to finish, though, were the Weasley twins, who were standing on their benches, with their arm over the other's shoulder, singing along to a slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted the last few lines of song with his wand, and when they finished and started bowing and applauding each other, Dumbledore was one of those that clapped the loudest.

"Ah, music," he said. "A magic beyond all we do here! Now, bedtime; off you trot!"

Percy, and Annette Gamp, the fifth year Prefects, gathered the first years to them. The other Prefects – two from sixth year, and two from seventh – spread themselves out amongst the older students, whispering something to each of them.

"This way," Annette called. Harry and the rest followed them out of the hall and up a large staircase. People in portraits on the walls whispered at them as they passed, but Harry didn't really care; all he could think about was trying to remember the way Percy was leading them so that he could find his way back downstairs in the morning, and on mirror calling Padfoot as soon as he got to his dormitory.

Up and up they went – encountering a few friendly ghosts, and a rather unfriendly Peeves – on the way. Peeves attacked them all with walking sticks and swooped at them.

"Ickle firsties," he cackled. "Oh, the fun I can have with you!" Annette flinched with the first years, and ushered those closest to her - Hermione, Lavender, Dean, Neville and Parvati out of harm's way. Draco made a quiet snarling noise – obviously he was _not_ in the mood – and held Scabbers closer, so the rat wouldn't be hurt, and then he stomped after Annette.

"Peeves!" Percy said, ducking a walking stick. Harry yanked Seamus out of the way. "Peeves, stop it, or I'll call the Baron!" Peeves blew a raspberry at him. "I'll do it!"

"Peeves," Harry said.

"Oh, it's a brave ickle firstie," Peeves said, coming to float in front of Harry, who took a step back. "What's the ickle firstie got to say?"

"Peeves!" Percy bellowed.

"Padfoot sends his regards," Harry said. Peeves frowned for a moment, and then his eyes glinted. "And Moony's a teacher this year."

"Loony, loopy Lupin!" Peeves cackled, zooming up toward the ceiling. "Oh-ho! Peevesy _will_have some fun this year!" He vanished, and the walking sticks dropped with a clatter. One hit Percy's shoulder, the other got Seamus' foot, but Harry and Ron were unharmed. Harry heard a ghostly cackle on the staircase further down, and hoped he hadn't doomed Moony... He shook his head; Moony of all people, would be able to handle Peeves.

"You'll want to watch out for him," Percy said. "He doesn't listen to anyone except the Baron... not even Dumbledore, or us Prefects." His injured tone gave Harry a fair idea of what Percy thought of _that._ "This way."

They rounded another corner, to where Annette and the others were waiting in front of a portrait of a fat lady wearing a pink dress.

"Password?" she asked as Percy approached.

"Caput Draconis," he told her, giving the first years a significant look. Harry stored the password away, hoping he'd remember it in the morning. The portrait swung open and the first years clambered in - Harry, and Hermione were the first through, since Ron had waited with Seamus to help poor Neville through, and Dean, Parvati and Lavender were all asking Annette about Peeves. Draco was the last one to enter, and he did so very reluctantly.

Harry found himself in a cosy room full of squashy red armchairs, some of which were already occupied by students who fell silent and turned to watch them walk in. Harry suddenly wished he'd waited to help Neville so that he hadn't been at the front of the group of first years.

"It's Potter," one kid whispered. Harry looked up and met the boy's eyes, resigned. "And the Malfoy kid." Draco stiffened and set his jaw.

"Percy," Harry said. "Which is our dormitory?"

"Up those stairs, the fourth door up," Percy said. "Girls, you're the same, but up those stairs."

"I'll see you in the morning?" Hermione whispered. Harry nodded. She waved and followed Annette and the other two up the stairs.

"Come on," Harry muttered with a last stare at the still-whispering students.

They found their dormitory; it was a largish, circular room filled with red-curtained, four-poster beds and there was a door on the far wall that Harry suspected led to the bathroom. Draco looked around with narrowed eyes and plonked down on the bed closest to the door they'd just come in through.

"I call the bed closest to the bathroom!" Seamus shouted, diving onto it. Neville sat down quietly on the bed beside him.

Harry took the bed next to Draco's while Ron and Dean bickered quietly about who got the bed next to Harry's but eventually Ron won and flopped down.

Harry dug through his trunk – which, along with Hedwig's empty cage (he supposed she'd gone to the owlery or something) and his rucksack, had been brought up - trying to remember where he'd put his pyjamas. He pulled them on, tossed his robes back into his trunk and also retrieved his mirror from his rucksack. The other boys were changing and arguing over toothpaste so Harry took the moment to slip back out onto the landing. He sat down with his back to the wall, looking out over the common room, and propped his mirror up on his knees.

"Sirius Black," he whispered. Padfoot appeared in the mirror at once.

"Hey, kiddo!" he said, grinning.

"Hi, Padfoot," Harry said. "How was work?" Padfoot shrugged.

"I dragged Morton – the bloke that hexed Moony – in for questioning, but didn't get anywhere... Brown was tolerable today though; he was more on my side than Hemsley's, for once."

"Brown's sister's here. Lavender," Harry said. "She reckons he's annoying."

"I reckon she's right," Padfoot chuckled. He was silent and then, looking like he might burst, said, "Well? How is it? How was the train, what House are you in? Who-"

"Do you want to keep talking or are you going to let me answer?" Harry asked, grinning. Padfoot clamped his mouth shut. "I like it," Harry said, answering his first question. "The train was good. I sat with Ron, mostly, but Draco and Hermione were with us for a bit, and a boy named Neville."

"Not Neville Longbottom?" Padfoot asked.

"Yeah, how did- _Oh,_" Harry said, remembering. Neville's parents had been part of the Order too, and they'd been Aurors, which was why he'd been raised by his gran, and why he'd flinched when Lavender started talking about her brother and Padfoot. The Longbottoms had been tortured into insanity, if Harry remembered properly, by Padfoot's lunatic cousin.

_Which is probably why he's so nervous around me, _Harry thought, wincing.

"Knut for your thoughts?" Padfoot asked quietly. Harry just shook his head and changed the subject.

"Moony and I had a- I don't really know what to call it – on the train."

"Oh?" Padfoot asked, frowning.

"Hydrus started to call Hermione the M-word, and I was about to hex him, but Moony stopped me. Said it was a bad idea because I'm famous, and you'd look bad, and-" Padfoot sighed held up a hand. Harry fell silent.

"Listen to me," he said, seriously, "okay." Harry nodded, and waited. "There is _always_ another option. Sometimes that's getting a teacher or a Prefect, other times it's walking away, other times it's keeping your mouth shut, or letting them hex you instead, and other times, you throw a punch, not a spell." A small smile flickered across his face. "That said, just because there's another option, doesn't mean it's the best one; I hexed a tonne of people when I was at school, and so did James, and so did Moony, and I don't regret as many as I probably should, because I believed, and still do, that they deserved it... I also spent half of my time at school in detention, or being yelled at by teachers."

Harry chuckled, but continued to listen carefully. Padfoot sighed.

"Point is, kiddo, is that hexing is the start, not the end. If you think something's worth the detention, and the letter they'll write to me-" Padfoot waggled his eyebrows at that point. "-and the – and this is a worst-case scenario – _Daily Prophet _article, then – and I'm not being sarcastic here – do it. That applies to anything; we broke laws when we all became animals to help Moony, but I don't regret that for a second. And same goes for escaping Azkaban and taking you."

"So... what... make a choice and stick with it?"

"Don't do anything you can't justify. If you hex someone, be prepared for them to hex you back, and be prepared to spend the rest of the week cleaning filthy cauldrons with that person. If you've hexed them because they bumped you accidentally, then you're a git, but it's also probably not worth it. If you're hexing them because they've already tried to get you, and it was with an Unforgivable, then who cares about a detention in the scheme of things?" Padfoot laughed. "Heavy stuff for a first night away from home, isn't it?"

"A bit, yeah," Harry agreed, laughing, but he was already going over what Padfoot had said. "I still would have jinxed Malfoy today, if Moony hadn't intervened."

"Moony had to," Padfoot said in a voice that held a not-quite-reprimand. "He's not just Moony, anymore; he's Professor Moony, and he's got to look out for other kids too. The school's got their own system. Me though... if you hex some little git, and you've got a damn good reason for doing it... well, I'm hardly going to punish you on top of what the school does, am I?"

"What if it's not a good reason?" Harry asked. He knew what Padfoot was getting at, and why; he wanted Harry to think before he acted. Padfoot had often said that he'd been impulsive as a boy, and that had got him into a _lot _of trouble... and he'd made a lot of mistakes that he didn't want Harry to repeat. Padfoot had also spent a lot of time fighting for what he believed in – the Order, and later, his freedom – and so obviously he wanted Harry to find and fight for Harry's own values.

But what if Harry made a mistake? What if he hurt someone, or he chose a bad set of morals to follow? Would Padfoot tell him he was wrong, or would he just leave Harry to work it out for himself?

"You're not on your own," Padfoot said. "I'm here, and there's Moony, of course. But you've got a pretty good moral compass; it certainly points closer to North then mine does."

"But what if I-"

"Kiddo, you're eleven, and you don't know everything – and no one expects you to. Of _course_you're going to slip up a few times; that's what growing up is. I just want you to think about things, so that when you do slip up, you don't almost kill someone, like I did." A shadow passed over Padfoot's face, but it was superficial; he still regretted it, obviously, but he'd long ago learned from it, and moved on. "You can take comfort from that, actually; no matter how badly you mess up, you can just about guarantee that I've messed up worse."

Padfoot smiled in a self-deprecating way, and Harry laughed, feeling better, but still thoughtful; Padfoot had given him a lot to think about.

"Thanks," Harry said, wishing Padfoot was there with him so that he could hug him. Padfoot just shook his head and smiled.

"Go and find Moony at some point," he advised. "He's probably tearing his hair out over the parental-imitation he did today." Harry chuckled.

"I will."

"Good." Padfoot fidgeted on the other side of the glass. "Tell me about the Sorting?"

"I wasn't expecting a Hat," Harry said.

"No one does," Padfoot said, amused. "Why would they?"

"I almost asked it not to put me in Slytherin," Harry said wryly, "and then I changed my mind and didn't say anything-"

"Well, firstly, congratulations," Padfoot said, grinning. Then he looked concerned. "And you're all right? I know you were hoping for Gryffindor, but you've got Draco with you, at least, and-"

"Let me finish!" Harry laughed. "I didn't say anything, and the Hat told me that was either brave or stupid..." Padfoot chuckled.

"Only you, kiddo," he said, shaking his head. "So, Gryffindor?"

"Gryffindor," Harry agreed, grinning broadly.

"Excellent," Padfoot said, grinning back. "What dorm are you in?"

"Fourth one up," Harry said.

"That's our old dormitory! What bed's yours?"

"Er..."

"Uh oh-"

"I've only been in there once," Harry said defensively. "I'm... second from the door, I think." Padfoot beamed.

"Check the headboard - I carved a tiny paw-print in it in my sixth year."

"There are six of us," Harry said. "It might not be yours."

"Yes, well my bed was always second from the door," Padfoot said. "And speaking of the door, does it have a rather large dent in it?"

"I didn't check. Why?"

"Moony," was all Padfoot said.

"Dunno. I'll have a look later."

"Good, and let me know." Padfoot checked his Sidekick. "I'm helping with training at four," he sighed, "and you'll have lessons tomorrow, I imagine." Harry nodded. "Bedtime?"

"Bedtime," Harry agreed. "Night, Padfoot. And thanks."

"No problem, kiddo. Love you."

"Love you too," Harry said. Padfoot's image wavered and vanished. Harry stared at the blank mirror for a bit and then got up and walked back into the dormitory.

The other boys were all in their beds - Ron was already snoring and Seamus and Dean were talking quietly, their voices muffled by the hangers of their beds. Draco was curled up on his side staring blankly at the wall. Harry sought out his toothbrush, brushed his teeth in the bathroom, and then crawled into bed.

"Great food, isn't it?" he said to Neville, who was digging through his trunk.

"Yeah," Neville said. He seemed calmer now than he had at dinner, which was odd, because it was just Harry now. "Have you seen a Potions textbook anywhere?"

"Er, no, I don't think so," Harry said. "Sorry."

"Oh," Neville said, sounding disappointed. He continued to dig through his trunk. Harry pulled his pillows away from his headboard and scanned the dark wood. Finally he found it, but it wasn't the mark he'd expected; it wasn't a paw print at all. It was a tiny hoof-mark with the letter 'P' beside it. He brushed his thumb over it, smiling, as it sank in that James Potter, his father, had sat on this very bed, had lived and breathed in this same room... Harry wiped his damp eyes on his sleeve before anyone could notice. "I know you know," Neville said after a pause that was filled by the other boys' snoring. He hadn't looked up.

"Know what?" Harry asked, trying to keep his voice steady. He replaced his pillows and settled into bed. "Your book? I haven't seen-"

"Not- about-" Neville seemed to struggle with himself. "I mean about- my parents." The last two words came out as a whisper. "I know you know what happened."

"I've heard the stories," Harry said quietly, rolling onto his side to face Neville properly. He wasn't sure whether it was appropriate to apologise, or whether he should wait for Neville to speak again instead. Thankfully, Neville beat him to it.

"Can you not- I don't want people to- I don't want to be like you," Neville said. Harry looked up, and so did Neville, and there was pity of all things, on the other boy's face. "I don't want everyone to know, and to talk about me wherever I am, or to feel sorry for me, or for my family. They were brave, and they should be remembered that way, not as- as-" Neville trailed off helplessly. Harry's estimation of Neville soared in that moment.

"I won't say anything," he promised. "It's not mine to tell, but even if it was, I wouldn't, because I know what people are like, or, I mean, what they can be like, when they, you know, talk and point."

"Thanks," Neville said, looking relieved. "I'm sorry for being... well, I'm not really a very talkative person, but I was even worse today, because I thought you might recognise me and say something. Sorry." Harry shrugged. Neville sighed and tucked himself into his bedding. The dormitory was silent for nearly ten minutes, and Harry was just starting to slip into sleep, when Neville spoke again. "I wish they weren't missing this; my Sorting, and my first night here... I think they'd be happy for me, if they knew."

"Mmm," Harry agreed. He reached for his trunk, rummaged around one-handedly for a moment, and then his fingers brushed the thing he was looking for. He put his parents' wedding photograph on his bedside table, smiled at it – at his mum and dad, and at Padfoot and Moony – and then snuggled down into his bedding.

Everyone in the photo beamed back, and that was the last thing Harry saw before sleep claimed him.


	9. A Proper Welcome

_Narcissa,_

_We did it._

Narcissa's heart constricted, and she scrunched the message up.

"We have mail, Lucius," she called, as she stepped into the dining room to join him for breakfast. Her voice echoed, and she couldn't help but think it seemed very empty in the house, without the boys around.

"Excellent," Lucius said. He was spreading jam over his toast, but put it down to receive the envelope. He checked the writing on the outside. "From Hydrus?"

_And nothing from Draco,_ Narcissa thought, squeezing Severus' note even tighter. She slipped it into her pocket as Lucius sliced the envelope open with his wand.

"_Mother and Father_," Lucius read aloud. "_I made it into Slytherin_ – no surprises there – _and have settled in well. The train ride was long, like you said, Father, but I spent it with the rest of the group, so it wasn't too bad. I think there's something wrong with Draco though; more than usual, anyway." _At this Lucius looked up to meet Narcissa's eye. He only looked worried, but to her, it felt like condemnation for what she'd done. "_Firstly, he got up and moved compartment about halfway through the ride. And guess where he sat: with Potter, and Weasley, and some mudblood girl." _Lucius just looked puzzled now, and Narcissa's heart clenched again – he didn't know what was coming anymore than Draco or Hydrus had. "_I went to go and get him, but halfbreed Lupin interfered. And that's not even the worst part. I-" _Lucius paused, his face draining of colour.

"What is it?" Narcissa made herself ask.

"_I don't know how to tell you this,"_ Lucius read, looking stunned, "_but Draco didn't get into Slytherin with the rest of us. He's in Gryffindor._" Narcissa tried to look surprised, but Severus' note was burning her through her pocket.

"What?" she asked.

"_The hat took a long time to decide, and then put him there. He said – and I agree – that there must have been a mistake, but the teachers told him to sit down. He's always been a bit odd, I know, but I never thought it was this serious, and I don't know what to do. He's family, so I really should help him and I do want to, but part of me also wonders whether it's better to just sever all ties."_ Narcissa bit down on her tongue, so that she wouldn't sob. "_I could really use some advice, Father, on how to handle this. Perhaps you could write to the school and ask to have him transferred into Slytherin, or maybe, if it's not too late, you could take him out and have him go to Durmstrang. I really don't know what to do about this. Yours in confusion, Hydrus."_

Lucius' hand trembled as he set the letter down by his teacup, and also when he gestured for Narcissa to come over. She got to her feet and went to Lucius, who pulled her down into his lap and kissed her cheek.

"You're crying," he said. Narcissa touched her face and was startled to find it was wet. She dabbed at it, but Lucius just held her close and rubbed her back gently. "Where did we go wrong?" he asked aloud, looking shocked, and a bit angry. "I stopped trying to get him into Gryffindor over a year ago, and Severus kept up the visits, but not the lessons!" Lucius shifted restlessly, jostling her, and then sighed. "I am so, so sorry," he said.

"For-"

"You warned me against this – you said it was a bad idea, that you didn't want our son to be a bloodtraitor, a Gryffindor... And I- my actions have brought us to this same outcome; I've ruined him, without even intending to."

"It's too late to change anything now," Narcissa said, resting her head on her husband's shoulder, but another few tears had trickled down her cheeks when he'd said 'ruined'. "We just have to move forward, and not lose Draco the way my Aunt lost Sirius." Lucius stared at Hydrus' letter, and then, abruptly, made a choking noise. Narcissa turned, startled, in time to see Lucius dab impatiently at his eyes. "And I don't blame you," she said quietly.

_That rests on my shoulders, and on Severus'._

"You should. This is my fault-"

"It's not your fault," Narcissa said, and was reminded of her conversation with Draco in his bedroom, at a function a few days after Sirius' trial.

"It is," Lucius said, his face crumpling. He wasn't crying anymore, but he looked distraught.

"No," Narcissa said helplessly.

"I am so, so sorry, Narcissa," Lucius said again, and wrapped his arms around her.

_Please, please let this be worth it, _Narcissa thought, burying her face in the side of Lucius' neck. Her tears started up again, and she vowed they would be the last over Draco; it was done now, and time to step back and watch.

* * *

Harry blinked himself awake to the sound of general morning bustle; Seamus was trying to talk to Neville and brush his teeth at the same time, Ron couldn't find a pair of matching socks and Dean was struggling to tie his tie. Harry rolled out of bed - rather ungracefully, but no one was looking - and staggered over to his trunk.

"Malfoy's still asleep," Seamus said, rolling his eyes. "He's probably never had to wake up before nine before." Harry knew for a fact that this was wrong and he saw Draco's back - the blond was facing the wall again - tighten.

"Maybe he was just tired," he said. He doubted Draco'd slept well; in his eyes, he was probably in enemy territory.

"Maybe," Neville agreed warily, looking at Draco as if he were a sleeping dragon and not a sleeping boy.

"I'm starving," Ron said, yawning as he shoved his belongings back into his trunk. "Can we go down?"

"I'm ready," Dean said, having given his tie to Neville to fix. Seamus nodded. Harry pulled his robes on over his uniform and bent to tie his shoelaces.

"Are you coming, Harry?" Ron asked as the four of them made their way to the door.

"I'll wait," Harry said, nodding at Draco's back. The others shrugged and trooped out.

"You didn't have to do that," Draco mumbled, rolling over once the door was closed.

"Nope," Harry agreed. Draco stared at him, opened his mouth, closed it, and then got out of bed and disappeared into the bathroom. Harry heard the shower start, and sat down on his bed to wait, wondering which of Draco's many personalities he'd be dealing with that morning. He also wondered whether he'd have Defence Against the Dark Arts that day; Moony had hidden his lesson plans away, so Harry had no idea what he had in mind, and was eager to find out.

Twenty minutes after he'd first gone in – and Harry was starting to get very impatient – Draco finally emerged again. His blond hair was gelled back and his robes were free of creases. He looked every bit a Malfoy, even with his red and gold tie. Harry groaned.

"You know," he sighed, "you look exactly how everyone's going to expect you to look."

"I'd hate to fail to meet their expectations," Draco sneered. He didn't look open to any further conversation, so Harry just shrugged awkwardly and led the way out of the dormitory.

Because they were running so late, the corridors were almost abandoned, but, despite there not being anyone to follow, they managed to find their way to the Great Hall fairly easily; it was a simple matter of going down and down until they reached the Entrance Hall. Inside the Great Hall was a different matter altogether. There wasn't a single student or teacher that didn't look up when the two of them walked in.

Harry froze, his eyes darting up to the staff table; _Help?_ he thought toward Moony, who was wincing.

Draco though, took one look at him, curled his lip and drawled, "Good morning," loud enough for everyone to hear. The rest of the school looked rather surprised, but Harry saw Snape smirk into his breakfast. "Flattering as this is," Draco said, "haven't you got anything better to do?" With that, Draco grabbed Harry and hauled him over to the Gryffindor table, where Ron and Hermione shuffled over to make space for them. Harry sat at once, eager to blend in, but Draco remained standing for a few moments; he was giving the Slytherin table a longing look.

"Sit down," Harry said, yanking Draco into his seat. Draco scowled at him. Harry ignored that, and grabbed two pieces of toast, several spoonfuls of scrambled eggs, and a few rashers of bacon.

"Hungry?" Hermione – who had pancakes in front of her – asked.

"Starving," Harry said. "Bacon, Draco?" He shook his head, but he was, at least, eating again; Draco was drizzling honey over a bowl of porridge. Neville turned to Harry only moments later, to ask him whether they'd had any trouble finding their way downstairs, and that conversation led to one about where their classes would be, and whether they'd manage to find them.

Then, the post came.

Harry was terrified when he saw Hedwig soar in with the rest of the owls; Padfoot had joked once, about a month ago, that he'd send a singing letter to congratulate Harry on his Sorting, and Harry had no doubt that he would follow through with that. Hedwig had two letters tied to her thin leg, but only let Harry take one. The writing was vaguely familiar, and when Harry opened it, he was touched to see that it was from Tonks. Hedwig took the second letter up to the staff table, to Moony.

_Wotcher Harry!_ it said.

_Remus told me about your Sorting, and congratulations! I'm glad you got the House you wanted, and I know Charlie always had a lot of fun there, so I'm sure you will too. Hopefully you've got a few friends with you, and the teachers aren't _too_ mean!_

_I'm keeping an eye on Sirius out here – help a witch out, and keep an eye on Remus for me, eh? Thanks!_

_I'll see you soon, I'm sure!_

_Love,_

_Tonks._

Harry smiled and tucked the letter into his pocket. Moony was smiling at his, and Harry wondered what she'd written to him; his ears were faintly pink. Moony pocketed it when he saw Harry was looking at him, and went back to his breakfast.

Ron had received post too – one was a family letter that was passed around between him, Percy and the twins, and the other was from Ginny – and he chuckled to himself as he read.

Several minutes later, when they'd all eaten their fill – even Harry and Draco, who'd been the last down to breakfast – Professor McGonagall came by with their timetables.

"Are we all in the same lessons?" Ron asked, craning his neck to look at everyone's timetables.

"They're sorted by Houses," Hermione said knowledgably. "So we've got History of Magic with the Hufflepuffs, and then Charms with the Ravenclaws."

"Fun morning," Draco grumbled from next to Harry.

* * *

"Okay, if you wouldn't mind passing this around – just tick your names off, and I'll try to learn them as I go," Remus said, to his Gryffindor and Slytherin third years. "I'm Professor Lupin, as I'm sure you've all heard, I'm your Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher for the year." A boy in Gryffindor robes – _Figures, _Remus thought to himself – flung his hand up. "Yes? Uh, Mr-?"

"Kenneth Towler," the boy said. He was chubby, with curly hair and squinty eyes. "Are you really a werewolf?" Remus sighed and leaned back against his desk.

"I am," he said. "And I promise, I don't intend to maul any of you... unless you don't hand in your homework on time." A pair of Gryffindor girls in the front row looked terrified, and the other students had expressions of fear, shock, or awkward uncertainty on their faces too. "Kidding," Remus said hastily. "I was joking. I won't be eating anyone."

"Shame," one of the Weasley twins muttered to the other, glancing at a trio of Slytherin boys. Remus' lips twitched.

"I'll warn you now," he said, "that I have very good hearing-" He glanced at the twin who'd spoken; the boy grinned and glanced at the other twin. "-and a good sense of smell..." He fixed the Weasley twins with a pointed look; he could smell the dungbombs in their schoolbags.

"Bloody hell."

"I heard that," Remus said, smiling. One of the Slytherin girls sniggered.

"Now," Remus said, pushing off the desk. "My area of expertise is – obviously – magical creatures, so that'll be the focus this year, along with a few jinxes and protective spells that I've always thought were useful. So, books away, and wands out..." He stepped over to a large trunk that Snape had – very reluctantly – helped him move out of the dungeons the night before. "We're going to be doing a bit of work with Boggarts today."

* * *

History of Magic, in Draco's opinion, was fascinating. He and Granger were the only two to think so, though; less than ten minutes into the lesson, Finnegan and two Hufflepuff girls had already dozed off, and Potter and Weasley were playing hangman on a spare piece of parchment.

Charms was a bore, though Draco was sure it would get better; they spent the entire first lesson learning how to hold their wands properly, and then learning about spell pronunciation, and common wand movements. Draco was relieved when they finally escaped to lunch.

He, though, was intercepted in the Entrance Hall. In hindsight, he should have expected it, been surprised, even, that it had been put off for so long.

"Got a moment?" Hydrus asked. Vincent and Gregory flanked him, like always, and Daphne, Nadia and Pansy were bringing up the rear. Draco was suddenly even more aware of his Gryffindor tie, and had to force himself _not_ to take it off and bury it in his bag.

Weasley looked like he might say something, and Potter looked worried – Granger just seemed confused – but Draco nodded.

"I don't cause a fuss when you want to talk to your family, Weasley," he drawled, without looking at the Gryffindors.

"But-" Weasley began.

"Shoo," Draco told him. Potter put a hand on Weasley's shoulder and guided him into the hall. Granger frowned at the Slytherin girls, who were whispering some rather nasty things about her, and followed Weasley. Potter followed the pair of them, and something in his expression made Draco's insides squirm with... was it guilt? Draco shook his head to clear it.

"Well that was easy," Hydrus said, smirking. "You've already got them at your beck and call." Draco almost protested, but just smirked instead. It was easier than trying to explain. There was an awkward silence. "Care to explain?" Hydrus' eyes lingered on Draco's tie.

"I don't know what happened," Draco said miserably. "I should be in Slytherin, with all of you-"

"So you say," Daphne said sneered. Draco shot her a venomous look.

"Poor Draco," Pansy said, coming forward to pat his arm. She didn't seem at all mocking, or mean, just confused and worried.

"I've had a letter from home," Hydrus said, pulling a folded piece of parchment out of his pocket. "I wrote to Mother and Father to tell them about the Sorting." Draco cringed. "They're disappointed – not in you – in the way things have turned out. And they want to fix it. They've asked me to let you sit at the Slytherin table for meals, and – even though the rest of the House won't like it – I think that's for the best. And we'll study with you in the library, right up until curfew, to limit the time you have to spend upstairs. There's not a lot to be done about lessons, or sleeping arrangements, but the rest _can_ be helped."

"And we're willing to do it," Pansy said earnestly.

"But if you're going to sit with us, you'll have to follow a few rules," Daphne said primly. "And the main one, is that you can't wear _that-_" She jabbed a finger at Draco's tie. "-unless it's absolutely necessary. The second one, is that you should try to lose as many points from Gryffindor as you possibly can." She smirked, and Hydrus gave her a pleased look.

_That doesn't seem fair, _Draco thought, frowning to himself, and then shook his head. _Idiot; that's the sort of thinking that got me into this mess._

"Deal," he said, holding out his hand. Hydrus looked relieved, and shook it.

Draco tugged his tie off and tucked it into his trouser pocket and then followed his brother and peers to the Slytherin table. There were no official rules about who was allowed to sit where, though generally people felt the most relaxed with their House, and so that was where they stayed. Draco was the exception.

It wasn't a warm reception from the rest of Slytherin House, but no one was openly hostile. In fact, the majority just glanced at him, at his missing tie, and went back to their own conversations. Draco sat down where Hydrus pointed, with a few of the other first years; Millicent was there, and Blaise, and the girl who'd been in his and Potter's boat last night, and a boy that Draco didn't know.

"Tracey Davis," the girl said. "I was too nervo-" Millicent made a soft noise that got both Draco and Tracey's attention for a moment, but she didn't seem to have anything to say. She just filled her goblet with water and turned to Theodore, who was watching Tracey carefully. "I mean," Tracey said, in a cool voice, "I didn't have a chance to introduce myself last night." Draco saw Theodore nod. He didn't recognise the name Davis, so he was reasonably sure that Tracey was either a halfblood or muggleborn... and, if Millicent and Theodore were trying to keep her from putting her foot in her mouth, it was probably the latter. Draco nodded at her and decided to keep his mouth shut about his suspicions.

"I'm Christopher Morton," the boy said. That was a name Draco thought he recognised; the Mortons weren't initially from wizarding stock – too many muggles and muggleborns popping up on their family tree, Father always said – but had kept their line 'pure' for a few generations and were constantly striving to get into the pureblood circle, but Father and a few others had turned them down enough that they hadn't bothered in the last few years. "Sorry to hear about your Sorting."

"Thanks," Draco muttered. "Well done on yours."

"Thank you," Morton said, with a smirk. "I wasn't surprised, per say, but it was a relief. I don't know what I would have done if I'd ended up anywhere else." Draco forced a smile and reached for a ham and cheese sandwich. His eyes fell on the Gryffindor table, where Potter was laughing at something Weasley had said, and Granger was looking appalled. Draco wondered what Weasley had said.

"It's Granger, isn't it?" Blaise said, nodding in the direction that Draco was looking. Draco turned back around at once, before anyone could see him looking at his Housemates.

"A muggleborn," Draco said, because that was the sort of thing that would matter most to the occupants of his table. Tracey fidgeted, and Millicent rolled her eyes and offered her a bowl of fruit.

"Well obviously," Pansy said. "Just look at her!" Daphne sniggered into her lunch. Blaise was still looking over Draco's shoulder.

"Oh, _please_ tell me you've got better taste than that," Daphne said, shuddering. Blaise gave her a cold look.

"I'm just trying to work out what she's doing in Gryffindor, and not Hufflepuff," he drawled. "Or why she's here at all, for that matter." Nadia laughed appreciatively, and Daphne gave Blaise a long look before she returned to her lunch. Blaise went back to watching the other table. "How does she know Potter?" he asked after a moment.

"Do we care?" Pansy asked incredulously.

"Honestly," Daphne muttered. Theodore glanced at her, pursed his lips, and glanced away. No one had answered, though.

"I think they went to muggle school together," Draco said. Granger had mentioned that when he was questioning her on the train yesterday. Blaise blinked and stared – if it was possible – harder at the trio on the other table.

"What's Potter's name?" he asked.

"Why are you so interested?" Nadia asked, looking irritated. "He's a bloodtraitor, and Granger's a mudblood. They're not worth our time-"

"Malfoy," Blaise said curtly, ignoring Nadia altogether. Hydrus, who was talking to Vincent, Gregory and two boys – brothers, Draco thought, but only one looked young enough to be a first year – turned at the sound of his name. "Not you," Blaise said dismissively. He fixed Draco with an expectant look. "Well?" he asked impatiently.

"Harry, isn't it?" Theodore said. Draco nodded and Blaise, oddly, groaned.

"Yeah, that's what most of us think," Hydrus said, smirking. Everyone else sniggered and carried on, but Draco was silent, and so, interestingly, was Blaise.

* * *

Harry thought he was going to like life at Hogwarts very much indeed. After lunch (when they would usually have had Herbology), he and all of the other first years - had a meeting with the four House Heads, and the Head Boy and Girl, who gave them a proper introduction to Hogwarts; they introduced themselves, and let the students know where their offices were, if they ever needed to find them. They were briefed – in detail – on the rules – curfew, for example, as well as magic use, homework deadlines and even had the caretaker Filch present a talk on prohibited areas and items.

Harry couldn't keep a straight face throughout it all – he could imagine all too well what Padfoot and Moony would say if they were there to hear it – but he was the only one. If the aim of the session had been to scare the first years into being on their best behaviour, Harry thought it had worked. Snape and McGonagall, in particular, made it clear that they expected no nonsense.

Even the Slytherins – and Draco, who stood with them, blank-faced – weren't sneering or smirking like they had been when they intercepted Draco before lunch. Blaise looked unimpressed and Harry tried several times to catch his eye, but Blaise didn't look in his direction at all.

Once the teachers were done, they were offered the chance to stay on and learn to properly write with a quill – muggleborns had very little experience with that, as Harry knew all too well from his pre-Padfoot life – and so Hermione and quite a few others stayed behind to get some extra help.

Harry left – as did Ron and Neville – and tried to catch up with Blaise, but he and his new friends slipped out of the room, and Harry got caught behind a group of Ravenclaws that couldn't have walked any slower if they'd tried.

"Reckon Hermione'll be all right finding her way back?" Ron asked.

"With her memory?" Harry asked, chuckling. "Yeah, she'll be fine. And she's got Dean and Seamus with her if she's not."

"Wish I had her memory," Neville said sadly; he'd been ten minutes late to the first year meeting and Snape told him off – quite nastily - for it. Ron patted him on the shoulder.

"Common room?" Harry asked.

"Nowhere else to go," Ron said, shrugging.

The three of them managed to find their way back without any hassle, and spent a concerted ten minutes reading the chapter Binns had assigned them for homework before they got hopelessly bored and started a game of chess instead. Harry, to his great shame, lost four times in twenty minutes, and then swapped places with Neville, who was even worse.

Hermione joined them about an hour after the meeting ended and settled right into her homework. She didn't stir until dinner, and would probably have studied all the way through that, had Harry not poked her until he got a response.

"Scary," Ron said to him in an undertone, as he and Harry walked down to dinner behind Hermione and Neville. "She'd have missed dinner, for homework... Is that normal?"

"It is for Hermione," Harry muttered back, grinning.

"Scary," Ron said again.

As he had at lunch, Draco sat with the Slytherins, and Harry tried not to let that worry him... it wouldn't have, he didn't think, if Draco seemed happier over there than he had with the Gryffindors. But Draco seemed just as quiet and withdrawn.

_It's not my business_, Harry told himself, and smiled when Draco caught him looking. Draco started to smile, and then checked the movement and looked away with a sneer. Harry frowned and turned back to his dinner.

"So, ickle firsties, how was your first day?" Fred – or Harry assumed it was Fred, because he was wearing a jumper with an 'F' on it – said, shooing Ron aside so that he could sit down. George was further up the table with a stocky boy that looked about Percy's age, and a pair of third year girls.

"All right," Ron said, glancing at Harry, who shrugged. "A bit boring – History of Magic, Charms and then we had a bit of time off this afternoon because we've got-"

"Astronomy tonight," Fred said. "Sounds like the timetable's still the same as it was when we were young and innocent, like yourselves." Ron snorted – probably, Harry thought – at the 'young and innocent' bit. Hermione just glanced at them, seeming amused. Then, she caught Harry's eye and nodded down the table; George was now trying to slip some sort of insect into one of the girls' gravy without her noticing.

"What'd you have?" Ron asked his brother.

"Defence," Fred said.

"With Moony?" Harry asked, interested. "How was it?"

"Wicked; we were up against a Boggart, and-" Fred suddenly went very still. "Sorry, did you say Moony?"

"Yeah, Remus- I mean, Professor Lupin. I call him-"

"Moony," Fred said again, rather woodenly. He'd lost quite a bit of his former animation, and seemed to be shutting down before their very eyes. "Excuse me." He got up, and walked over to George, in a daze.

"You all right?" Harry heard George ask, but didn't catch Fred's response. George looked over at Harry though, and then at Moony, and then he got up jerkily, leaving his plate of food untouched. He and Fred practically ran from the Great Hall.

Only a few minutes later, Percy came in and sat down in the seat that Fred had vacated, shaking his head, and accepted the basket of bread rolls from Hermione with a distracted 'thank you'.

"What?" Ron asked.

"They're squealing," Percy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Who?"

"Fred and George," Percy said. "They're skipping around in the Entrance Hall, squealing like- well, like I don't know what."

"That's never good," Ron said, wincing. He spent a few seconds looking concerned – Percy actually looked scared - and then went back to his steak and potatoes. Harry supposed he was used to it. Percy ripped his bread roll to pieces and kept a bespectacled eye on the door, as if expecting to hear an explosion or something from beyond it.

Fred and George returned during dessert, looking livelier than Harry had even seen. Ron had joined Percy in looking scared, but that quickly turned to irritation when he was shoved out of the way so that George could sit down beside Harry. Fred sat on Harry's right. Both were entirely focused on him, and it – unsurprisingly – disconcerted Harry.

"Fred," Percy began.

"Shut up," George said briskly, and Percy huffed and went to sit further down the table. "One moment, kiddies," George said to Ron and Hermione. "We've got important things to discuss with Harry here."

"Shove off," Ron said. "We can sit here if we-"

"You've got five seconds," Fred said, "before we take action to _make_ you move."

"And a few feet down the bench is much easier than a trip to the Hospital Wing," George advised.

"Right," Ron said. "Come on." Hermione scowled and looked at Percy, as if expecting his help, but he'd gone to sit with the stocky boy George had been with earlier. "Trust me," Ron said, giving the twins a nervous look.

"If it's anything bad, I _will _tell Professor McGonagall," Hermione warned. Fred just shooed her away, and she followed Ron down to where Neville and Dean were sitting with Parvati. Harry rather wished he could go too.

"Harry-"

"-we're going to play a game." Fred's eyes were gleaming in a rather maniacal way. Harry could well believe he'd been squealing in the Entrance Hall, though Merlin only knew why.

"Rules are easy," George continued. "We're going to say a name, and you're going to tell us what comes to mind."

"Er... right. Okay." Harry sent Ron a pleading look, but Ron just shrugged in a helpless way.

"The Marauders."

"How do you know that name?" Harry asked curiously.

"We're the ones asking the questions," Fred said, shaking his head. He looked unusually serious, and on the verge of exploding, all at once. "Come on, Harry; the Marauders."

"Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs," Harry said carefully.

"You were right," George said, looking to Fred with awe on his face.

"I found them," Fred said. He was crying a bit, and didn't seem to care at all. "Harry's Moony is _the _Moony. We found them!"

"Cover us," George said, rather tearfully, to Harry. He was digging around in his pockets, and Fred had drawn his wand.

"Do you think it'll be enough?"

"Nothing's enough," George said, sniffing. "But I think he'll appreciate it anyway."

"Wha-"

The pair of them crawled under the table. Harry stayed where he was, feeling rather isolated now that no one was sitting with him.

A moment later though, it didn't matter.

Gold and purple fireworks burst out from under Gryffindor table and exploded against the charmed, starry sky. Several students seemed startled, but the majority just pointed and smiled. At the same time, a banner appeared in mid air, facing the staff table.

_Welcome home, Marauder Moony_, it said, in large golden letters. Harry beamed. Sparks from the fireworks fizzled down around it, and Fred and George emerged, startling a group of fourth years, to kneel, tear-streaked faces and all – beneath the banner. Confused murmurs raced around the student tables, but the staff table seemed to know what was happening.

"_No!_" McGonagall said, quite audibly. "It's only been one day- they _can't_ know-" Dumbledore just patted her shoulder, and chuckled. Snape's expression was the best; equal parts dread and fear, and was mimicked on the faces of the rest of the staff... except for Moony's.

Moony was laughing at the banner, and at McGonagall, and trying to apologise for laughing, all at once.

Yes, Harry thought he was going to like life at Hogwarts very much indeed.


	10. Slytherin And Gryffindor

Harry's second day at Hogwarts was just as dramatic as the first; they had the morning off to sleep in after Astronomy, he'd spent lunch undergoing rigorous questioning by the twins (who'd been shooed away and told not to talk to Harry, by Professor McGonagall), and then had their first Transfiguration lesson after lunch. Hermione was the only one in the class that managed to turn her needle into a match, and Harry wasn't at all pleased with his lack of success; how in Merlin's name was he supposed to turn himself into a wolf, if he couldn't even manage a match? He listened carefully as McGonagall tried to explain the theory behind the matches, and what their homework would be, and he even slipped his match into his pocket so that he'd be able to practice with it later.

Defence Against the Dark Arts was that afternoon, and it was the class he'd most been looking forward to. Moony didn't disappoint. He spent ten minutes answering questions – mainly from Seamus and from Hydrus – about his condition, before he told them to get their wands out and spent the afternoon teaching them a few useful spells. Most of them were ones that Harry knew – the Finger-Twitch jinx, for example, and the Body-Bind; they weren't ready to learn to Stun or Disarm, but these worked just as well in the meantime.

Harry tried to go over to talk to Blaise and Draco several times during the lesson, but was stopped by the rest of the Slytherins. Hydrus, the third time, thought it would be funny to use the Finger-Twitch jinx on him, and once Harry had recollected his wand, he used a full body bind in return and was rather pleased when Hydrus fell to the ground with a thud. He blinked angrily at Moony.

"That's what we're after," Moony said, with a blithe smile. "See how Hydrus can't move at all? Nicely done, Harry – five points to Gryffindor."

Harry grinned, and Moony winked before he turned around to help Lavender; Harry just knew it was to get Hydrus back for the train yesterday. Unfortunately, though, Draco lost those points Harry'd earned, after only a few minutes, for calling Neville a bloodtraitor. That seemed to delight the Slytherins to no end, and that in turn, made Harry suspect Draco'd been _told _to do it. Ron didn't appear to have made that distinction though.

"That little git," Harry heard him growl, and he and Hermione grabbed an arm each before Ron could go over and lose them any more points. "Ignore him, Neville," Ron said firmly, when he'd settled enough to not lunge at Draco.

"Of course _you'd_ say that, Weasley," a blonde girl whispered, keeping an eye on Moony, who was helping a trio of Slytherins, all of whom had stayed out of the dispute. "You and your family are just as-" Lavender stepped up to the other girl, flanked by Parvati, and was probably about to defend Ron, when Moony cut in.

"That's enough, I think," he said quietly, but firmly. He did not look impressed. No one lost points – Moony had been distracted with other students and so couldn't tell who'd said what and when – but he dismissed them all early; he let the Slytherins (and Draco) leave five minutes before the Gryffindors – probably to avoid any casualties in the corridors – and then let the Gryffindors go. Harry stayed behind.

"Well, that went well," Moony sighed, sitting down on his desk.

"I thought it was a good lesson," Harry said, sitting down on a desk in the front row. "I just wish we weren't with the Slytherins." Moony looked rather like he thought the same thing, but he didn't vocalise it.

"Mmmm," was all he said, and then sighed. "About the train-"

"It's okay," Harry said. "I talked to Padfoot about it last night."

"And what did Sirius have to say?" Moony asked, looking unsure about wanting to hear Harry's response.

"That everything has consequences – or that was the gist, anyway. He said not to do anything if I can't live with what comes next."

"Good advice," Moony said. "As your teacher, I'm not sure that I should be saying that – I should be saying 'don't hex anyone, ever', but as a person... well, there are far worse moral codes to stand by." He hesitated. "Nice body-bind, by the way."

"Thanks," Harry said, grinning.

"Even if you weren't supposed to have done it," Moony added.

"You shouldn't have given me points then," Harry countered. Moony smiled reluctantly.

"I won't next time," he warned, and Harry nodded, not bothered by that. "Draco's taking some time to adjust, apparently."

"Apparently," Harry sighed.

"It's not easy," Moony said. "Sirius _wanted_ to be Sorted into Gryffindor, and even he struggled."

"I get that it's put him in a hard position, but he doesn't have to be a git about it," Harry muttered. "He can hang around with Slytherins without turning against Gryffindor, can't he? I mean, he is one; if he belonged in Slytheirn, the Hat would have put him there."

"You're right," Moony said, "but Draco probably doesn't see it so simply."

* * *

"That's a relief," Lucius said, smoothing Hydrus' second letter out. They were still yet to hear from Draco himself – Narcissa imagined that he was probably too confused to be able to formulate any sort of sense in a letter – but Hydrus had said that Draco was willing to go along with the rest of the pureblood children. "His House can't be helped now, but his opinions and behaviour still can. A snake in lion's clothing, or something similar... yes." He nodded to himself. "A good idea, Narcissa."

She nodded distractedly from behind her book on Occlumency; Merlin knew she had some secrets these days. Lucius left to write back to Hydrus, and Narcissa sighed.

She had sworn to herself the morning before that her manipulations were done, but they weren't. As evidenced by Hydrus' latest letter, Draco was very willing to go along with the rest of the Slytherins, and apparently, not at all pleased with his new House.

Narcissa didn't think that was entirely true, but she did believe that Draco probably didn't _know_that, not yet. Which was exactly why she'd suggested Hydrus include Draco in everything. Had Draco rejected the offer, then she'd have known that Draco was comfortable in Gryffindor, and well on his way to being on Potter's side. But, Draco had taken the offer, which would, in the long term, work just as well.

In the wake of his Sorting, Draco had no doubt forgotten – or at least, set aside – his problems with Hydrus and the rest of the pureblood children. But Narcissa knew that it was only a matter of time before a value or opinion of Draco's conflicted with someone else's too much for him to simply overlook. Draco belonged in Gryffindor – she and Severus had seen to that – and whether it took a day, or a year, he would eventually come to realise that, and gravitate away from his old cohort and toward Potter and others like him.

Sirius had done it, and, while Sirius had _wanted_ Gryffindor, and Draco hadn't, the principle still applied; she and Bella had – at their aunt's request – tried to include Sirius. In the end, their attempts had pushed him away faster. The same, she was sure, would work with Draco.

And he would be safe, because with his training and his House, he'd have a choice, if or when the time came, and he would also, eventually, be happy.

Narcissa turned the page of her book.

* * *

On Friday, they finally had an encounter with Blaise. Or, rather, Hermione did. She'd been keen to get to Potions early and left before the rest of them. Blaise – never one to be late to any sort of lesson – was there too, and Snape hadn't yet arrived to open the doors.

By the time Harry and Ron arrived, with the rest of the Gryffindors (except Draco) in tow, Hermione was in tears, and at the mercy of the Slytherins, and Blaise, particularly, seemed determined to upset her as much as possible. Only Draco, Nott and Davis looked uncomfortable. Before Harry or Ron could step up and defend her, Snape arrived.

He took one look at Hermione, one look at the sneers on his students' faces, and then barked, "Explain, Mr Malfoy." Harry pulled Hermione back to the safety of the Gryffindor group, and rubbed her back. Ron asked her a question in a low voice, and she sniffed and shook her head.

"The mud-"

"The _other_ Mr Malfoy," Snape said curtly. Hydrus curled his lip and fell silent. Draco shrank back and looked around for help. None came. "Well?" Snape asked impatiently. For the first time it occurred to Harry that whatever fondness Snape had had for Draco might have gone after his Sorting; Snape had never made it a secret that he hated Gryffindors.

"Granger provoked them," Draco said finally. He glanced at Hydrus, drew himself up, and then added, "So we put her back in her place." Hermione, who'd stopped crying, made an outraged noise.

"All I said," she cried, "was-"

"No one asked you, mudblood," Blaise said coldly, and Hermione fell silent with a tearless sob. Harry frowned at Blaise, who, very resolutely, did not meet his eye.

"Mr Zabini, that is not an acceptable word to use at school and if I hear it from you again, I will be forced to deduct points." Snape then turned back to Draco. "So she provoked you, and you handled it as a group?" Snape asked, fixing Draco with a look that made him wilt. He nodded, though. Harry thought Snape looked disappointed for a moment, but his usual scowl was back a moment later. "Very well. Miss-"

"Granger, sir," Hermione said shakily.

"Granger." Snape's lip curled. "Five points from Gryffindor for provoking the other students-" Ron and Seamus made furious noises, and Harry glared at Snape, who glared right back. Harry didn't think his heart was in it, though, which was odd. "-and I will take more if it happens again." He flicked his wand at the dungeon door, which opened and he barked, "In!"

Snape, like every teacher except Moony, started off with the class list. He hesitated when he got to Harry's name, and for a moment, Harry thought he was about to say something, but in the end, he just drawled, "Harry Potter." Harry couldn't shake the feeling that he'd just been spared something very unpleasant.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking," Snape said, when everyone had been called. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Harry smiled, before he could stop himself.

"Did I say something funny, Potter?" Snape asked quietly. Harry quickly wiped the smile off his face.

"No," Harry said quickly.

"Tell me, what-" Again, Snape hesitated. "-is the difference between monkshood-" Harry's heart sank. "-and wolfsbane?" Hermione's hand shot into the air, and the majority of Slytherin sniggered; a few just looked confused.

Harry opened his mouth to say, 'I don't know', when he realised that he did. "There isn't one," he said. Merlin knew he'd heard Moony, Tonks and Padfoot talk about that potion and its ingredients enough times.

"Well, it seems you're not entirely useless," Snape said, making the Slytherins laugh appreciatively. Harry didn't really care. Compared to the way Snape had treated him when they first met three years ago, Snape was being downright friendly. Hermione, next to Harry, put her hand down, looking a bit disappointed that she hadn't been allowed to answer.

Given the disastrous start to the class, out in the dungeon corridor, Harry really shouldn't have been surprised that the end of class was just as bad; Snape paired them up and had them prepare a cure for boils and then swooped around the classroom, criticising everyone's potions. Hermione and Harry seemed to be the only two Gryffindors that weren't terrified; Hermione wanted to prove herself, no doubt, and Harry had made far more complicated potions – his Form-Revealer, for one - and had experience with Snape – though, admittedly not in a teaching environment. Their partners though, Dean and Ron, were criticised for not helping enough, and told to pay attention because Snape would pair them together next lesson.

Neville managed to melt Seamus' cauldron, and cover himself in painful looking boils; Seamus took him to the hospital wing, and Snape told Harry and Ron off for not keeping a closer eye on him.

"He's the teacher," Ron complained to Harry, as they shifted their stools away from the puddle of cauldron that Neville had left behind. "Shouldn't _he_ be the one keeping an eye on people?"

"Probably," Harry sighed, stirring their cauldron. Ron passed him the next ingredient, and then ducked his head; Snape was heading back their way.

* * *

"Mr Malfoy, stay behind," Severus said, as everyone filed out, or, rather, as the Slytherins filed out, and the Gryffindors fled.

"I'll see you at lunch," Draco muttered to Hydrus, who gave Severus an appraising look and left with Vincent and Gregory. "Sir?"

"Not here," Severus said. He led Draco out of the classroom and into a part of the castle that Draco was much more familiar with; his office. "Sit." Draco dropped his school bag on the office floor, and lowered himself into the chair Severus was pointing at. Severus himself didn't sit; he remained standing.

"How are you?" Severus asked, surprising Draco.

"I haven't had the start to Hogwarts that I'd hoped for, but I've adjusted."

"So I'd noticed," Severus said coolly. "I was relieved to see, that, despite your current problems, you're still managing to keep muggleborns in their place." There was so much sarcasm and condemnation in his voice that Draco shrank back into his chair. "I'd expect that supremacy nonsense from Hydrus, or the others, but from you, Draco... I confess, it's disappointing." Draco scratched the scar on his palm, ashamed – he was disappointed in himself too, and to hear it from Severus was even worse – but frustration bubbled up too, and in the end, he couldn't hold it back.

"You know what else is disappointing?" he said. "This!" He tugged on his tie. "This isn't how it's supposed to be! I'm supposed to be in Slytherin with everyone else, but I'm stuck in stupid Gryffindor!" Draco wiped his cheeks, angry. "It's not fair!"

"Life isn't fair," Severus said quietly. Draco just sniffed.

"I always knew I was different," Draco said, letting out words that had been bouncing around his head since the Sorting. "but I didn't know that- that that was wrong! I just thought I thought differently, that I thought older or something; I think like you, and you were a Slytherin, and so was Mother! I was raised to be a Slytherin, and somehow, I've managed to- to- to undo it."

"You mustn't blame yourself," Severus said. "These things-"

"I don't _blame_ myself," Draco said. "I just... don't understand. I want to write to Mother and Father and tell them I'm sorry, but I don't know what there is to say, because what- I- there-"

"Draco, calm yourself," Severus said firmly. Draco took a few deep breaths, and wiped his face again for good measure. "Your parents will understand - I spoke with them both last night." Draco's eyes widened and he wanted to ask a thousand questions, but held his tongue instead. "Your mother, in particular, is eager to see you, or, at the very least, hear from you."

Relief, even if it was wary - who knew what Mother would say when she got past the worry and shock? - seeped into Draco.

"I'll write to her," he said tentatively. "Tonight."

"See that you do," Severus said, with a sharp nod. "And, despite the fact that you did not make it into my House-" Draco flinched, but Severus' tone was mild, and free of its earlier bite. "-my office is always open to you." Severus put a hand on Draco's shoulder for a brief moment, and then stepped back. "I suggest you go to lunch," he said, "before those buffoons you call classmates eat it all."

"I don't sit with the Gryffindors," Draco said. Severus didn't say anything. Confused, Draco stood and hovered awkwardly by the door. "Thanks," Draco mumbled. "Sorry for-"

"There is no need to apologise." Draco left, heading upstairs to the Entrance Hall. Just before he stepped into the Great Hall, for lunch, he pulled off his tie and tucked it into his pocket.

* * *

As much as he was enjoying school, Harry was glad when the weekend arrived. He spent most of Friday afternoon doing his homework with Hermione and Ron, and went and saw Moony after dinner. The pair of them mirror-called Padfoot and Kreacher, who were eager to hear stories about the first week; Harry told them about his classes and teachers, and his friends, and Moony had a whole heap of funny stories to share, mainly about Peeves (who wouldn't leave him alone), and the Weasley twins (who were almost just as persistent).

"They don't do anything, though" Moony said. "They're not pranking, and they're not talking... they just sort of watch me, and seem completely content with that... It's- I offered them tea yesterday, and they panicked and ran off. I've got no idea what to make of the whole thing."

On Saturday, Harry left his friends to their own devices and went to the library to work on his Transfiguration. He re-read the chapter they were working from, and his notes, and then pulled out the match to practice with. He managed to make his match silver in the first five minutes, but it took him another fifteen to make it thin and pointy.

_I'll try again, _he decided.

_"Finite_," he said, but the needle remained. Harry frowned and leafed through his book until he found 'Reparifarge', but that was only to undo incorrectly done transfigurations.

He closed his book and went to search the library for something that could help him. Trying to reverse the transfiguration took Harry the rest of the day. By the time he got to dinner, he was tired and hungry, and his hand ached from all of the wand movements he'd tried before he got the right one – it had to be the exact reverse of the one he'd done initially – but he was also the very proud owner of a seemingly normal match, and, as he loaded his plate with mashed potatoes, he couldn't quite wipe the grin off his face.

"What'd you get up to today?" he asked the table, but was mostly focused on Hermione and Ron.

"We played chess," Hermione offered; Ron had looked up with his mouth full. "Ron won," she added, looking a bit put out. "All seven times."

"I reckon even you'd have won," Ron told Harry, who grinned. Hermione huffed and picked up her fork , but she wasn't offended; knowing her, she was disappointed because she'd finally found something she wasn't the best at. Harry didn't think that was a bad thing.

"And Draco?" Harry asked, glancing over his shoulder at the Slytherin table, where the boy in question sat silently, picking at his dinner. "Did he show his face today?"

"Not 'til now," Ron said, his face darkening a bit. Harry's heart sank. He wasn't sure where he sat with Draco at the moment, but he suspected he'd be a lot more forgiving than Ron, who hadn't been at all impressed by the blood traitor comment in Defence. And, judging by the way that Hermione's eyebrows drew together, she didn't care much for him at the moment either.

Harry sighed and stabbed a roast carrot.

* * *

The next week at Hogwarts was about as uneventful as life at Hogwarts could be. Seamus punched Morton – the boy whose father had attacked Moony – outside Charms on Monday afternoon for insulting his muggle father, and on Tuesday morning, Moony gave Blaise detention for picking on Hermione; this time, she didn't cry, just ignored him, and Harry was proud of her for that. Harry, on the other hand, hit Blaise with the knockback jinx they were practicing, giving Moony no choice but to give him detention too.

Moony seemed disappointed, but Harry figured it was an opportunity to hit two Bludgers with one bat; he'd defended Hermione, and he'd also earned himself several hours with Blaise. His hopes for having a civil chat with him diminished but didn't disappear, when Blaise shoved him into the doorframe on the way out of the classroom.

Tuesday afternoon was Potions again, but thankfully only a theory lesson. Snape taught them about the properties of a few ingredients and the ways that they interacted together, and, once Harry'd taken all of the Gryffindor-directed nastiness out of his notes, they were actually very informative.

Wednesday passed without consequence; they had their first Herbology lesson with Professor Sprout, and Neville, of all people, proved himself a very capable student. Once, he even beat Hermione in answering a question. Harry's plant experience was limited to weeding and watering – the things he'd done for the Dursleys – so he partnered with Ron, figuring that at least they could have no idea together.

Draco continued to ignore the Gryffindors, and, when they weren't in Defence or Potions (the Slytherin-Gryffindor classes) he sat with Zacharias Smith from Hufflepuff, or Sophie Flint from Ravenclaw. Neither seemed to like him very much, and he didn't seem to like them either, but he sat there nonetheless.

Thursdays, Harry thought, were likely to become his favourite day; they got to sleep in – if they wanted to - then had Transfiguration with McGonagall, lunch, then Defence with Moony, and, until Christmas, they now had flying lessons in the afternoons (though that was, regrettably, with the Slytherins).

Hermione and Neville talked about flying all through breakfast, and Harry, after trying to tell her that you couldn't learn to fly from a book, gave up, left them to it, and relocated with Ron to where the twins were sitting, discussing a prank they were going to pull on Snape over dinner; the plan was, Harry managed to gather, to charm his peas to make his skin change colour, each time he ate one.

"He'll kill you if he finds out," Ron said, impressed.

"He'll know," Fred said, shrugging, "but what's the worst that could happen. McGonagall's our Head, so she'll hand out the punishment, and Snape hates us already, so we've got nothing to lose."

Harry wondered, for just a moment, if Snape ever saw his dad and Padfoot in the twins.

"Greasy git," George added. Harry winced, deciding that was a distinct possibility. "So, young Harry," George asked, turning around, "we think we've covered enough about Moony for the time being-"

"-and that it's time to move on, to, say-"

"Wormtail," George said hopefully. Harry – who'd not been expecting to hear that name - choked on his mouthful of yoghurt, and Ron thumped him on the back. As always, there was the anger that Harry associated with the traitor, but even more prominent was the guilt and pity; Harry still remembered Wormtail's shrill, babbling confession at Padfoot's trial, and knew all too well that Wormtail was doomed to spend the rest of his life in the cold company of his deepest fears.

"He's a git," Harry said, after he'd had juice to clear his throat. "He's in Azkaban, and staying there." It was clear that Fred and George were dying to ask more, but Harry saw Ron shake his head and they went back to their breakfasts.

Harry forgot all about Wormtail though, when he got into Transfiguration. They were working on their matches again, and Harry managed his as quickly as Hermione. Hermione went to collect more from Professor McGonagall's desk so that she could keep practicing, but Harry kept his single needle, and set about trying to change it back again. It only took him twenty minutes, and only ten the time after that.

By the end of the double lesson, Harry could reverse his transfiguration just as quickly as he could do it in the right direction. At the end of the lesson, everyone except Harry (who'd turned his back to a match), Neville (who had a toothpick) and Wayne Hopkins from Hufflepuff, had a needle on their desk. Hermione had eleven, and earned a point for Gryffindor for each one.

"Monday's single lesson will also be dedicated to this," McGonagall said as they loaded their books back into their bags. "I expect everyone to have managed by the end of that lesson, so if you still have a match today, I suggest you practice." Her beady gaze lingered on Harry, Neville and Wayne. "Do not forget."

"I'll remember to practice," Neville said, as they made their way to lunch. "Look what Gran sent me." He pulled a glass ball out of his pocket and lifted it up to show Harry. "It's a Rememberall; it'll fill with smoke when I've forgotten something."

"How'll you know what you've forgotten?" Ron asked curiously.

"I won't," Neville said. "Gran said she'd get me the proper one-"

"Proper one?" Harry asked, looking at the Rememberall; it looked pretty proper to him.

"You can put memories in them," Neville said, "And it shows you what one's important, instead of just smoking. But they're really expensive," he added. "Gran said I have to prove I won't lose this one before she'll let me have a real one."

Harry glanced at Ron, fighting a grin; it had only been a week, and he'd already seen first-hand how easily Neville lost things. Neville's things kept turning up in strange places all around the dormitory and common room, and it was common to see Neville digging through his trunk in the early hours of the morning, or sitting on his bed, deep in thought as he tried to remember where he'd last seen something. Trevor didn't help matters, because the toad kept misplacing himself; Lavender had returned him to Neville after finding him in the girl's bathroom on the weekend.

"Where're we sitting?" Ron asked, glancing around the table.

"There," Harry said; he'd spied a rather unusual addition at the very end of the bench. Ron frowned, but followed him over with Hermione. Neville bade them goodbye to sit with some of his Hufflepuff friends.

"Did I scare him?" Draco asked, as they approached.

"Only as much as we scare you when you sit over there," Ron said, jerking his head at the Slytherin table. He sat down opposite Harry, who'd taken the seat beside Draco.

"You don't scare me," Draco scoffed, "I just-" He hesitated. "-don't like you very much."

"There's your answer," Hermione said, taking the seat next to Ron. She poured the four of them drinks, and wasn't the only one that seemed startled when Draco thanked her for it. Harry saw her expression soften a tiny bit and then she asked rather briskly, "If you don't like us, why are you sitting here?"

"They're not out of lessons yet," Draco said. He picked up a quarter of a sandwich and took a bite. "I had to wait somewhere, didn't I?" Ron grunted. "Keen for flying lessons today, Potter?"

"I s'pose," Harry said, helping himself to a generous serve of cheesy macaroni. "You?" Draco shrugged.

"Fred and George say the school brooms are rubbish," Ron said.

"How would they know?" Draco asked, looking confused. "Your family can't afford quality brooms, so they wouldn't know the difference."

"Obviously there's a difference, or they wouldn't have said anything," Ron said, red-eared.

"I suppose," Draco drawled. "If the Weasleys thinks they're bad, they must be. I-" Harry kicked him – probably harder than was necessary – and Draco cut off with a yelp. "What, Potter?" he asked crossly.

"My leg twitched," Harry said, unrepentant. "Sorry." Ron sniggered, and Hermione looked amused.

"Lie," Draco muttered.

"Lie?" Hermione asked. Oddly, Draco coloured at that.

"It's nothing," he said. Hermione, never content not to know something, folded her arms, and frowned at Draco, who didn't seem to care at all.

"What do you think of classes so far?" Harry asked, not sure whether he was trying to spare Draco from Hermione, or spare Hermione from the retaliation that Draco would no doubt come up with. "I haven't really had a chance to ask."

"No," Draco said quietly. He frowned and took another sandwich. "No, I suppose not. They're... good, I suppose. I like History of Magic-" Ron made a revolted noise, and Harry wholeheartedly agreed. "-and Charms is boring at the moment, but Defence Against the Dark Arts, Potions and Transfiguration are interesting. I managed my needle today." He looked quite pleased with himself, so Harry smiled, and was surprised when he earned a smile back. "I like McGonagall. She's tough, and she's terrifying, but at least she's fair."

"Terrifying is right," Fred – or the twin that Harry thought was Fred - said, sitting down beside them. "Some friends of ours-"

"-And yours, Harry-" George winked.

"-were telling us the other day about the time she made them clean the entire Prefect's bathroom-"

"-_without_ magic."

"How do you know about the squid?" Harry asked; last he'd heard, the twins had been content to stare at Moony in awed silence, instead of asking him questions. "And friends? Were there- I mean- Friends? As in, more than one? Who-"

"Friends _is_ the plural of friend, Potter," Draco said, "so yes, I daresay there was more than one." Hermione laughed before she could stop herself. "Why in Merlin's name did these friends of yours have to clean the bathroom? I'm lost."

"They lost me at squid," Harry heard Ron say to Hermione, who nodded. At the same time, the twins seemed to realise Draco was with them.

"Oh, Malfoy," Fred said. "Didn't see you there."

"Well," George amended, "we did see you-"

"-but we didn't recognise you-"

"-with your tie." Draco glanced at the offending item and flushed.

"Sorry," Ron said, interrupting, "but squid?" Draco shot him a grateful look that Ron missed. "What about-"

"Squid," George agreed, beaming. "Legacies, they were, even as ickle firsties." He sighed, content, and he and Fred gave the staff table – where Moony was sitting, next to Snape – an admiring look.

"You've got a lot to live up to," Fred told the four of them. Harry arched an eyebrow, Ron continued to look blank, Draco just seemed confused, and Hermione looked interested by the prospect of living up to something, but Harry rather thought that interest would fade if she knew she'd have to break rules.

"How did you talk to more than one of them?" Harry persisted, directing his attention back to the twins; it was impossible, because while Moony was here, Padfoot was back home in London, Peter was in Azkaban, and James was dead.

"Ah, ah," Fred said, waggling a finger. "that's sensitive information, I'm afraid."

"Can't go spilling all our secrets," George added.

"Which of the others did you talk to?"

"All of them," Fred said. Harry shook his head, and let the matter drop. If the twins weren't just joking around, he was dying to know how it was possible to talk to all of the Marauders. If there was a way to do so, Harry was sure Padfoot or Moony would have mentioned it.

_Can't hurt to ask them about it, though, _Harry thought. He glanced up, just missing the punchline of whatever joke George had told the other three. Hermione looked scandalized, but rather pleased at the same time, and Ron and Draco were laughing.

"What?" Harry asked.

"The squid," Ron chuckled. "Who'd you say did it?"

"I didn't," George said, winking at Harry. "Names don't matter-"

"They did to you," Harry said, amused. Fred shushed him and gave Draco a pointed look.

"But, our nameless heroes aren't the only ones that won't tolerate blood-traitor and m-word nonsense." Draco shrank into his seat, looking far more guilty than Harry had expected him too. Draco's eyes flicked over to the Slytherin table, and he twitched. Harry didn't blame him; the entirety of first year Slytherin, and a few students from the older years were staring in his direction.

"How long have they been here?" he asked, looking horrified.

"They came in at the same time as we did," George said.

"Handy, that; there was some congestion at the doors, and we had a chance to put a handful of frog spawn in your brother's schoolbag."

* * *

Draco yanked his tie off and stuffed it into his bag while Weasley One was still confessing to the frog spawn. The others were laughing – even Granger, who Draco'd noticed didn't usually laugh about pranks – and Draco was tempted to laugh too; had it happened a month ago, he probably would have. But Hydrus had been... well, not _nice_ but certainly accepting... of Draco anyway... mostly.

_He's trying, _Draco thought with a sigh. Hydrus' support meant that Draco had to sacrifice a lot of his own values, but he hadn't had any sort of brotherly support in years, so Draco was willing to go along with it; Hydrus gave him somewhere to be, other than with the Gryffindors, if nothing else.

"Bye," he said hastily, swung his bag over his shoulder and hurried over to the Slytherin table. "Hi," he said, sitting down in the empty seat next to Morton.

"What were you doing?" Hydrus asked, looking horrified.

"Waiting," Draco said in a small voice. "You were late out of lessons, so I-"

"Sat with the Gryffindors," Pansy sneered. Draco nodded. "We've been here for ages, though; what took you so long?" Draco knew they had; Vincent and Gregory already had two dirty plates in front of them, and everyone else appeared to be onto seconds. And, Slytherins tended to be slow eaters, because they'd been raised to have such proper table skills.

"I was distracted." And he had been; he hadn't even seen the others come in.

"By what?" Hydrus asked, looking flummoxed. "Gryffindors? They're about as dull as they come."

"They're not that bad," Draco muttered, and then realised what he'd said. "They were telling a funny story, about a squid in the Prefect's bathroom-"

"Ew," Daphne said.

"It was a prank," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "Someone called a girl a-"

"A what?" Morton asked.

_Mudblood. _"Nothing," Draco said, realising almost too late that this crowd wouldn't see the funny side at all, and would probably be quite offended on the pranks' victim's behalf. "Nevermind. It wasn't that funny." He didn't talk or laugh again all through lunch, just nodded and smirked in the right places, picked at his lunch, and stayed silent whenever one of the others insulted his House or his Housemates, and tried not to spend too much time looking over at Potter, Granger and the Weasleys, who were still talking and laughing over on the Gryffindor table.


End file.
